Samantha Carter's Wonderful Life
by AstraPerAspera
Summary: Sam contemplates whether accepting command of Atlantis was such a good idea or not, especially now that Midway Station has been destroyed just weeks before Christmas. Sam/Jack established. With apologies to Frank Capra.
1. Chapter 1

Samantha Carter's Wonderful Life

by

AstraPerAspera

_A/N: Thanks, as always, to my two fabulous betas, **JenniferJF** and **mara-anni**, who always keep me on right track and cheer me on to the finish line._

For some reason she couldn't get John Denver out of her head.

Rather than take the transporter she had decided that morning to walk to the main tower from the habitation wing. Atlantis was beautiful and vast and in many ways superior in setting to the subterranean environment of the SGC, yet there was still something claustrophobic about being surrounded by miles and miles of ocean and there were days when she longed to feel solid ground beneath her feet. Walking the distance to her office from her quarters was one of the strategies she'd found that helped keep the sense of being constantly at-sea at bay, and as she'd strode through the austere, Frank Lloyd Wright-esque hallways she'd caught the sound of a high tenor voice drifting out from behind one of the closed doors.

_Some days are diamonds  
__Some days are stone_

Thinking about it now, hours later, Sam gave a humorless laugh. If some days were stone then today was nothing less than a full-sized boulder--quite possibly even a small mountain—hanging around her neck and pulling her down to the murky and unfathomable bottom of the ocean on which the city rested. Well…perhaps that was a little melodramatic, upon reflection, but still, she felt the weight of the day—of the entire past few weeks—as wearying as if she were indeed wearing a solid naquadah necklace.

Or maybe it was a noose.

It certainly felt that way, considering the intergalactic conference call she'd just gotten done with. The pinched face of Richard Woolsey had told her everything she'd needed to know before he or any of the other anal-retentive representatives had even uttered a word. And where the hell was Jack? Landry had been in on the call, but there was no sign of the one person she'd been counting on at least for moral support. And Landry's "General O'Neill is unavailable at this time" in response to her query had been entirely uninformative if not downright evasive. It had all gone downhill from there, which was saying a lot, considering.

Granted, the loss of the intergalactic bridge was not inconsequential. A great deal of effort and manpower—not to mention a whole lot of money ponied up by the IOA's member countries—had gone into developing and building Midway Station. Needless to say they had not been exactly thrilled by the news of all those billions floating around as so much space dust. The whole project had been a hard-sell in the first place. There were still more than a few who questioned the long-term viability of the Atlantis expedition and were loathe to spend any more resources on it than were absolutely necessary. It had taken a great deal of campaigning by those committed to Atlantis to finally win its approval. The fact that it had a half-life of less than a year did not make for happy campers back home.

Then there was, of course, the little matter of the Wraith, literally, at Earth's door. Which, she couldn't deny, if one followed the trail of events backward, clearly stemmed from her decision to grant Todd access to the Atlantis database. Of course if she hadn't, Atlantis might be only so much space dust by now, but she had the distinct feeling that the IOA wouldn't have been half as concerned over that as they were with Wraith running through the halls of the SGC. And, to be honest, she couldn't blame them. Had she known the danger she was placing Earth in, she may very well have chosen to sacrifice the ancient city as well. The fact that it had all worked out...miraculously somehow…made her feel only slightly better. Miracles, however, did not carry much weight with the IOA, and they had not been inclined, in any way whatsoever, to scale back their criticism.

Sam leaned back from her desk and sighed.

Well. It wasn't the first time she'd been under scrutiny, and it wouldn't be the last, she was sure. Still. For some reason today's inquisition had been especially difficult. Jack's absence, she knew, was part of it. But it was more than that. For the first time in many months…since those first, lonely weeks she'd spent missing everyone she knew and loved…she found herself doubting her decision to come to Atlantis. Wondering whether it had been the right choice or not. Whether she was really up to the task…or not.

At the moment, it was coming down on the "not" side.

"Colonel?"

Her head snapped up. Chuck had somehow managed to appear in her doorway without her even realizing it. He looked apologetic.

"Sorry to disturb you…but I just got a call from one of the research labs and there's been an incident…."

"What kind of incident?" She had schooled herself over these many months to ignore the impulse to jump to her feet and run fix whatever was wrong when reports like this would come to her attention. Even so, she felt her leg muscles tighten, ready to propel her into action.

"They're not sure, actually…it's one of McKay's teams. They're working on one of the Ancient devices. Whatever they did triggered some kind of lockdown. They're trapped in the lab and can't get out."

Sam was on her feet by now.

"Are they in danger?"

Chuck shrugged and shook his head, "Sorry…we really don't know."

Sam slipped past him across the bridge, activating her headset as she hurried through the Control Room.

"McKay? This is Colonel Carter…come in."

"Uh…Colonel?" The hesitant tone of Chuck's voice brought her up short. "Dr. McKay went off-world with Colonel Sheppard this morning…they're not due back until this evening."

Damn. She'd known that. And she should have remembered it. She could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on her and she hoped the room was dark enough to hide the flush she knew had crept into her cheeks. Good job, Sam. Forgetting that your flagship team is on a mission.

"Get Zelenka on it then," she requested. "Tell him I'll…."

"Dr Zelenka is on the team that's trapped. He's the one asking for help."

Sam took a deep breath. Beyond McKay and Zelenka she didn't know the next tier of scientists well enough to choose who to send. Besides…if Zelenka couldn't figure it out, there wasn't much sense sending someone less qualified. She really had no choice but to go herself.

"Tell Dr. Zelenka I'll be there shortly. Contact Dr. Keller and have her meet me at the lab. Oh…and get a hold of the engineers, please. Tell them we're going to need a torch."


	2. Chapter 2

As crises went, it could have been worse. It had taken the better part of an hour but they'd finally cut a hole into the lab and evacuated Zelenka and three other scientists. Between deep breaths from an oxygen mask Zelenka had explained that they'd tripped some sort of hazard protocol which was designed to vent the air from the lab in case of contamination. They'd managed to find and plug the vents with various lab coats and other articles of clothing, but the air had still gotten quite thin before they'd been rescued. A haz mat team was there now, making sure it had only been a computer glitch, and Zelenka and his staff were getting the once over by Keller's people in the infirmary. Sam figured they'd be cleared for duty within the hour.

Which was about when she'd get back to her office, she figured, if she stopped to have lunch. Not that she was particularly hungry, but she'd made a promise to Jack before accepting the post that she wouldn't skip meals. A promise she had kept. Mostly.

"Colonel!"

She turned to see Keller hurrying after her.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" She had flashes of Zelenka and his people succumbing to some undetected toxin and the whole base going under quarantine. Again.

Jennifer must have noticed the edge of concern in her voice because she slowed to a fast walk and smiled reassuringly.

"Not with my most recent patients, no…but I did want to talk to you."

"I was on my way to the commissary…have you eaten?"

Jennifer looked apologetic.

"Actually…I have. But I'll walk with you if that's okay. This won't take long."

Though considerably shorter, the doctor matched Sam's stride down the hall and didn't voice any objection when Sam suggested they forego the transporter station and take the longer way instead.

"I wanted to talk to you about staffing…," Jennifer began "They haven't sent a replacement for Dr. Heightmeyer yet and frankly, we're bearing the brunt of it. I'm not a trained psychologist, Colonel, and while a few of my people have some experience in counseling, we're just not equipped to deal with this. Especially now."

"Why is now such an issue?" She'd sent in at least a half dozen requests for a new psychologist but the answer was always the same: no one was available with the necessary skills who had the requisite security clearance. She knew Jennifer had been making do the best she could.

"The holidays," the doctor replied with a sigh. "I mean…they're bad enough for most people, even under the best of circumstances. Throw in being a few zillion light years from home and it makes for some pretty miserable personnel. Of course, what with Midway out of the picture, it's even worse now. A lot of people were counting on getting home, and now that they can't, the effects are starting to show up in my infirmary. There's a physical aspect to depression as well as a psychological one. We're trying to deal with both."

For just a moment that naquadah boulder around her neck seemed a little heavier. _She'd_ been one of those people scheduled for leave—24 hours at Midway and then three glorious days at home. Not at the SGC. Not at the Pentagon. But at home. With Jack. Alone. She hadn't even realized how much she had been looking forward to it until the realization it wasn't going to happen had hit her a few days after Midway's fate was confirmed. She knew she wasn't alone. She'd worked diligently with the department heads to rotate as many people as possible via the station for short leaves throughout the holiday season. The military personnel were accustomed to being gone, but the civilians, she knew, had a harder time being separated from their family and friends at this time of year. Even so, she'd done her best to make sure as many people, military and civilian alike, had the opportunity to get home. For all the good it did now.

"I understand your dilemma, Doctor. Really I do. And if there was anything I could do about it…."

The sound of shouting in the corridor ahead interrupted her. Loud voices…loud _angry_ voices…were coming from around the next corner. Sam exchanged a look of concern with Jennifer and they quickened their pace toward the commotion.

Two men stood facing each other, one a marine corporal, the other someone she recognized as an off-duty airman. They weren't shouting now, but that hardly gave Sam any comfort. She'd seen face-offs before and she knew this was just the calm before the storm.

Before she could even speak, someone's fist flew. It was so quick she wasn't even sure who landed the first punch; all she could see was a blur of muscle and uniform and streaks of red as blood and spittle went flying from the brawl. Barely registering Jennifer's gasp of dismay, she stepped toward the fight and loudly ordered both men to stand down.

Either they didn't hear her or they didn't care, although she strongly suspected it was the latter. She thought she saw a slightly smug grin crease the marine's face as he let loose a right hook, catching the airman in the jaw. Sam could hear the crunch of bone upon bone and saw the airman go staggering.

"I said that's ENOUGH!" she shouted, positioning herself between the two men. For a moment she thought the marine was going to push her out of the way, but she fixed a glare on him that she reserved only for special occasions such as this and after a couple of heartbeats saw him think better of it. Still, she couldn't help but notice he barely tried to conceal the smirk beneath the ever-so-slow movement to come to attention. She glanced at his name on his uniform and it rang a bell. Several reports of similar incidents involving the same man had crossed her desk the past few weeks. John had expressed concern. It seemed that he had been right to do so.

There was no formal brig on Atlantis. They'd never really had the need for one; people were there because they wanted to be and had passed a rigorous vetting before being allowed anywhere near the base. On occasion, when disciplinary action was required, the offender was confined to quarters and their access panels temporarily disabled. It was little more than sending a child to his room, in many ways, but it was all they had. At the moment, however, Sam found herself wishing for a real, barebones brig for Corporal Powell to just cool his heels in for the next few days.

Jennifer had already gone to the airman and was checking him over. Holding Powell at attention with a look, Sam summoned the MPs over her com and waited.

"Would you care to explain yourself, Corporal?" she asked the not-quite-penitent marine. The smirk remained and she found her own temper rising because of it.

"No, Ma'am."

She stared at him a few extra moments, doing her best to tamp down her anger and finally turned to the airman.

"Fischer, isn't it?"

The man's jaw already looked like a bowling ball. Jennifer had produced some tissues from somewhere and the man was stanching the flow of blood from his nose. Now that she thought about it, Sam realized the marine hardly had a scratch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Care to tell me what caused this?"

She saw him glance over her shoulder at Powell and she knew that some kind of silent communication had passed between them. Whether it was a threat or a dare or something else entirely, she couldn't tell. But a moment later Fischer squared his shoulders and looked, in his own way, as defiant as Powell had.

"It was personal, Ma'am."

She couldn't help herself. A loud sigh of sheer frustration escaped her. She had to resist the urge to curse at both of them.

"Personal." She repeated the word slowly for effect. "When two members of this expedition start beating the crap out of each other in the middle of the hallway, it's no longer personal…it's my business. Do you understand?" She looked back and forth between them until she received a "Yes, Ma'am" from both.

"Are you injured?" she asked Powell. There was that smirk again.

"No….Ma'am."

"Fine. In that case, you're confined to your quarters until further notice. Fischer?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Go with Doctor Keller to the infirmary. When she's patched you up, you too are confined to quarters until further notice. Have I made myself clear, gentlemen?"

She almost made them repeat their muttered responses but decided that it was better just to get them out of her sight. The MPs had arrived by then and escorted Powell away. The others trailed behind Keller and Fischer as they headed back to the infirmary.

When all of them were out of sight, she sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. The day certainly wasn't improving. A slight, bitter laugh escaped her. To think that Teal'c had commended her for having earned the respect of the people under her command. She liked to think it was true. And for the most part, she believed it was. But she also knew there were a few malcontents like Powell, who, for whatever reason, accepted her command only grudgingly, walking a fine line between barely following orders and tacit insubordination.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she wasn't fooling herself about the amount of support she actually had. Not all her decisions had been popular ones, she knew. There had been a very vocal group who had objected to her granting permission to collaborate with Todd in the defeat of the Replicators. Others, she knew, probably still disliked her simply because she wasn't Elizabeth Weir. She'd even heard whisperings suggesting that command of Atlantis should have gone to John Sheppard, and that she'd only been given it because she was involved with someone highly placed at the Pentagon.

The irony of that never failed to amaze her, considering how Jack had objected to losing her so soon after they'd finally defeated the Ori. They'd barely managed to have any time together before the loss of Dr. Weir had prompted a reassessment of the whole Atlantis strategy. The Pentagon had insisted that the next leader of the base needed to be military, considering the dual threat of the Wraith and the Replicators. The IOA had, of course, objected, feeling that a civilian-scientist—less Elizabeth Weir, more Rodney McKay—was needed. Learning as much about Ancient Technology was, the IOA felt, far more important than advancing diplomacy in the Pegasus Galaxy, not to mention that it also had a higher likelihood of resulting in an effective means of defeating their enemies—something that friendships with under-developed native cultures couldn't hope to achieve. They had been at a stalemate until Landry had offered her up as the compromise candidate. A soldier-scientist, newly minted Full Bird Colonel with plenty of leadership and off-world experience.

It was hard not to be flattered. And she'd wanted to test her command wings, now that the Ori and the Goa'uld and the Milky Way Replicators were behind them. Still. It had been an extremely difficult choice. Jack had supported her all the way, but for both of them it had been a decision made with heavy hearts. The presence of the intergalactic bridge had been the one saving grace in the whole deal, along with the assurance that visits to Earth would be as regular and as frequent as circumstances on Atlantis would allow.

Which, considering it was Atlantis, had turned out to be neither regular nor frequent. And which was why being home, with Jack, for Christmas had taken on such importance. It would have been the first time they'd been together in six months. Six months! In eleven years she'd never spent this much time away from him. Even when he'd been missing on Edora, it had only been a hundred days. But it had been twice that amount of time now, and instead of getting used to it, each passing day only made it worse. She had known being apart would be hard…just not this hard.

Suddenly she felt like punching something herself. Because if she didn't do something to distract herself the damned stinging in her eyes might threaten to turn into actual tears. And whatever else Base Commanders did, one thing they didn't do was cry. At least not out in the corridors in the middle of the day.

Pushing off from the wall she took a deep breath and straightened her jacket. If she recalled correctly, she had been on her way to lunch. And while she was even less hungry than she'd been before, a promise was a promise. And who knew…maybe today there'd be Jell-O.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry. Really."

She watched Dr. Snyder's face fall and wished for the hundredth time she'd skipped lunch. Or at least taken it back to her office. Dr. Snyder was the fifth person to approach her since she'd sat down, asking whether there was going to be any Earth-bound gate travel allowed for the holidays. All of them had been on the leave rotation and all of them had compelling reasons to be home. Therese Snyder's father was ill and had been expecting her home for a visit. Lieutenant Hapford's daughter was having her first Christmas. The other three…and the dozens more who hadn't come to her, all had someone waiting for them on the other end of the wormhole. It would be so simple just to dial the gate.

Except she couldn't. Being homesick…wanting to be with family and friends…all important enough reasons to go home; but not important enough to lose them for the three-plus weeks it would take to travel home from Milky Way. Getting to Earth was the easy part. Getting home…not so much. The power level of Earth's ZPM was tenuous at best. Should the Ancient Chair Platform ever be called into duty, they would need every ounce of energy the Ancient power source had to offer. It couldn't be used frivolously to shuffle people back to Pegasus after a three day trip home. It just wasn't worth it.

Maybe she ought to send out a memo, explaining the policy one more time. People had become so accustomed to using the bridge it wouldn't hurt to remind everyone that the quick return from Milky Way was entirely too taxing on Earth's systems.

At the very least it might forestall anyone else approaching her while she was trying to eat. Or at least trying to look like she was eating. Only the dish of blue Jell-O sat empty in front of her.

"Ma'am?"

Sam groaned inwardly. Not another one.

"Can I help you?" She tried not to say it through gritted teeth and only half-succeeded. Looking up she saw the NCO in charge of the kitchen fidgeting slightly next to the table. She must have sounded more annoyed than she thought. She tried to recall the man's name but she couldn't and his white kitchen coat was hiding his name tag beneath. Failing in all efforts to address him by name, she forced herself to smile instead. The man's nervousness seemed to vanish.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch…," he began. Sam waved away his apology. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to you about the potatoes."

Sam blinked at him, her brain trying to catch up to the conversation. She'd been expecting another query about holiday leave. Potatoes had been the farthest thing from her mind.

"Potatoes," she repeated. "What about them."

He must have taken her response as an invitation to sit, because he pulled out the chair across from her and sank wearily into it before leaning across on his elbows as if to share something in great confidence. For a moment Sam felt like a priest in the confessional.

"I know I'm by-passing channels, Colonel. But I've tried more times than I can remember to get Major Harrison to listen, and, with all due respect, Ma'am…he just doesn't seem to understand."

"Understand what, Sergeant?" Normally she would have sent the man through the proper channels, but there was an urgency to his concern that she felt warranted her attention.

They're the wrong ones," he told her in a low voice. The solemn look on his face suggested that this was a problem right up there with a full-scale Wraith invasion. Obviously she was still missing something.

"The wrong ones…?" she asked, hoping for further illumination. He nodded, clearly glad to see that she understood. Which, of course, she didn't.

"Every month it's the same," he went on. "I put in a requisition for russets…they send me Yukon Golds."

Something vague tickled at the back of her mind, but she was trying too hard to fathom the purpose of this conversation to give it any attention. "I'm not sure I'm following you," she admitted. "Is that a problem?"

From the reaction on his face, it obviously was.

"We've got fry-eaters here, Ma'am. I can't make enough of them. That Ronan Dex fellow alone can eat about five pounds-worth in one sitting. And you need russets for that. They hold their shape better. Yukon Golds…well…they're good for mashed—which I've noticed you prefer yourself—but you try to fry those puppies up and you've got nothing but a mess on your hands. I haven't been able to make a decent batch of french fries in months. And I think it's beginning to have an effect on morale."

If it hadn't been for the earnestness on the man's face, she would have laughed out loud. As it was, she had to cough to smother a slight chuckle. That vague sense of déjà vu that had been nagging at the back of her mind had suddenly become quite clear. She could practically hear Jack's laughter all the way from the Milky Way.

Doing her best to maintain the same level of concern as the man across the table, she squelched another smile and nodded in what she hoped looked like understanding.

"I'll look into it, Sergeant. And in the meantime, I think mashed potatoes are a reasonable substitute, especially now. People around here could use a little comfort food, all things considered."

Appreciation and, if she had to identify it, a sense of renewed duty brightened the man's face.

"Thank you, Colonel. I knew I could count on you."

He stood up and with a nod, headed back toward the kitchen.

Which was a good thing, really, because there was that stinging sensation in her eyes again, accompanied by a strange, twisting ache in her heart. It nearly took her breath away.

Who knew mashed potatoes could inflict such homesickness.

Or that potatoes were a command decision. Maybe the only one she'd gotten right all day.

Hoping no one had seen, she slid from her chair and walked with purpose to the nearest transporter station, seeking the shortest possible route to her office and whatever refuge it might provide.


	4. Chapter 4

Her head snapped up from her chest for the third time in an hour and she glanced, sheepishly, out the window to see if anyone had caught her dozing. Her coffee had gone cold in it's cup, which was probably a good thing as she'd lost track of how many cups of it she'd had already today. With nothing but Jell-o in her stomach, she could only imagine the toll it was taking on her digestive system. What it wasn't doing, however, was keeping her awake enough to read the performance evaluations her department heads had sent her. She was pretty sure there wasn't enough caffeine in the universe for that.

It had been a thrilling afternoon since she'd returned to the sanctuary of her office. A stack of paperwork had awaited her. Monthly reports. Requisition requests. Disciplinary actions (two of which mentioned Corporal Powell, she noticed). Assignment lists. Staff rotation schedules. And of course, the much groaned-over—at least by McKay—performance evaluations. She couldn't help but notice that he'd given everyone in his department the same rating: "Fair", the sole exception being Zelenka, whom he'd expansively deemed "Adequate". All of McKay's sparse comments were identical as well, although Zelenka stood out again with an additional sentence of grudging praise. John had warned her that Rodney was horrible at administrative stuff and she knew she ought to make him redo every single review. But a certain part of her empathized with McKay and quite frankly, she just didn't have it in her at the present time to make an issue out of it. Besides. His evaluations were mercifully brief compared with the next batch, which had put her right to sleep.

Literally.

Maybe she ought to save them for late night reading. After all, nothing else had been working much lately to help her get to sleep.

A small window popped open on her computer screen accompanied by an insistent beeping. An appointment reminder. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly three o'clock. According to the alert, she had a meeting scheduled with the head of the geology team and a few of his people. She'd completely forgotten about it. Dr. Burgh had some "concerns" he had wanted to discuss with her. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were. Sam sighed. Suddenly the tedious performance evaluations were seeming the lesser of two evils.

Knowing Burgh, though, he was probably already waiting for her in the conference room. Ten minutes early.

Where was a minor crisis when she needed one.

Lacking that, however, the next best option seemed a fresh cup of coffee and a quick tour of the control room, just to stretch her legs. But when no glitches appeared, no unscheduled wormholes activated and no one seemed remotely like they needed her assistance with anything, she had no choice but to head to the conference room to meet with the Rock Guys.

Geologists, she quickly corrected. It was bad enough to miss Jack as much as she did. She didn't need to start channeling him.

She had been right, of course. Burgh was there. Along with three other solemn looking men, all of whom wore the exact same expression. Which was none at all. Looking at the four of them she was reminded of Mount Rushmore. They were all as gray as the stone presidents and were it not for the occasional blinking of eyes, she might have thought they were made of stone themselves. She nodded to them in acknowledgement and found it vaguely disturbing when they nodded back. It was like having the mountain suddenly move.

Washington…she meant, Burgh…spoke first.

"We thank you for giving us a few moments of your time, Colonel. To be honest, we don't believe we get the same degree of respect as the other science departments on this base and we feel, at times, underappreciated." His voice was low and…she couldn't help but thinking it…gravelly. She bit her lip for a moment to counteract the smile that was trying so hard to take command of her face. Finally she had to study her hands for a moment until she was sure she had regained control. As long as she didn't think about it too much, she would be okay.

She hoped.

With great effort she looked up again and focused on the man in front of her, hoping that by giving him her full attention her thoughts would begin to behave themselves.

"Why don't you tell me what the problem is," she invited, hoping that she was sounding receptive and open to his concerns. He blinked at her from behind his thick glasses for several moments before replying.

"I just did."

"You…did…." She tried not to make it sound like a question as she struggled to recall precisely what the man had said. Finally she gave up. "Perhaps…you could expand upon that a bit…," she tried. Burgh blinked at her some more.

"We don't get to go on enough away missions," Thomas Jefferson piped up. Teddy Roosevelt, next to him, gave him a nudge.

"That's not what they're called here," he hissed. The two men exchanged glares.

"I think what my colleagues are trying to say is," chimed in Abraham Lincoln from the far right of the row of scientists. "We don't get to go through the gate nearly as often as we feel we should, given that we've been given a mandate to learn everything we can about the planets in this galaxy. Botanists…biologists…astronomers…even entomologists…get priority over us. It makes it difficult to justify our presence here if we never have anything to show for our efforts."

Sam gave the man her full attention. Unlike Burgh or the other two, this gentleman had identified some valid concerns. Or at least was more capable than the other three in articulating them.

"I'm sorry, it's Dr…," she paused, hoping he'd supply his name.

"Stone. Dr. Fredrick Stone. And please, Colonel. No puns. I assure you, I've heard them all."

The man's professional demeanor deflected any inclination her brain might have had to find his name amusing, for which she was grateful. She felt, at least for the moment, as though she had control of the situation again.

Protocol dictated that as head of the department, Burgh should have been the one speaking. But as he obviously had no difficulty with Stone taking over, Sam directed her comments toward him.

"I think you'll appreciate that when it comes to exploration, our first concern is the safety of the teams we send through the gate," she began. "That said, on the scale of potential risk factors, those that are biological, botanical or even entomological—in general—pose a much more immediate hazard to our people than do geologic make-up or even seismic activity. And that doesn't even begin to address security concerns." She swept her eyes over the four men but continued to speak primarily to Stone. "And yes. I admit…we've been extra careful about who goes on what missions these past months. Your department isn't alone in feeling as though your research has been curtailed. But until we get a better feel, strategically, for what's going on out there and the shifting balance among the various Wraith hives, I intend to continue to err on the side of caution and limit off-world research for non-essential groups."

"Then you might as well just send us home, Colonel," retorted Burgh sharply, before Stone could reply. "If we're of no use to you, then Atlantis is of no use to us. There are more than enough planets in the Milky Way galaxy to keep us busy without having to beg for gate time. Although I'm sure the IOA will want to know why a group hand-picked by them hasn't gathered even enough data for a decent science fair project."

She took a deep breath. If only she had a dollar for every time she'd met someone like Burgh: always ready to take their marbles and go home the moment things turned out not to their liking. For bonus points he'd even brought up the IOA. She fought back the urge to suggest just what he could do with his threats and the IOA, sure it would be physically impossible anyway, and instead plastered what she hoped was a menacingly patient smile on her face.

"Dr. Burgh," she began, leaning across the table in his direction. "You are _more_ than welcome to contact the IOA with any concerns you may have about operations on this base, including how much off-world time you may or may not have. But I can assure you," she tilted her head to stress her point. "The IOA can relieve me of command before I'll place anyone unduly at risk simply because their wheel squeaked louder than anyone else's. That includes you or anyone else on this base."

Burgh glowered, but said nothing. She thought she saw a wry twist of amusement in the corners of Stone's mouth; the other two just sat there gaping.

"Now," she continued, trying to sound slightly less like she was about to rip them to shreds. "If you'd care to remain in Atlantis, I will do my best to see that members of your team are attached, when appropriate, to SG units exploring planets we know to be relatively safe. If you can continue to operate within those parameters, then I'm happy to have all of you remain. Otherwise…." She paused to maximize the dramatic effect. "I'm sure when the Apollo makes a return trip next month they'll be able to squeeze you and your equipment onboard. And I'm afraid you'll just have to make-do in the meantime."

It came out with more of an edge than she'd intended, but that was okay. Tom and Teddy looked as though they wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room. Burg seemed as though he were trying to formulate some kind of pithy response that would permit him to accept her offer while still presenting himself as a victim of military discrimination. Only Stone was nodding. Why he wasn't the head of this group, she didn't know. He certainly seemed the more capable, at least in terms of human interactions. Although if seniority was the issue, then by age alone, Burgh definitely had the rest of them beat.

"As much as we might wish it could be otherwise, Colonel," Stone replied, resuming the role as spokesman. "I think it's safe to say that we understand that the present climate isn't particularly conducive to pure research. No doubt, as a scientist yourself, you can appreciate the disappointment in that. However, when all is said and done, even if we can glean only a little knowledge from this galaxy, it is most certainly better than none." He glanced, finally at Burgh, who still looked like a pouting child, but who, nevertheless, gave a slight, acquiescent nod. "All of which simply means that we'll continue to work within the current constraints and hope for a day in the not too distant future when we can access the planets more freely."

"Excellent," she declared, rising from her chair with a not so subtle signal that the meeting was over. The two middle scientists scuttled out the door as quickly as they could, and while she suspected Burgh would have liked to have done the same, he was going through the gesture of gathering up folders he hadn't even opened before disdainfully leaving the room. Stone lagged behind.

"We do get rather sensitive about these matters, Colonel. I hope you understand. Our field isn't one that most people consider 'cutting edge' when it comes to scientific research. Many people take what we do to be a bit of a joke."

Rock Guys.

She pushed the name back into the closet of her thoughts and mentally leaned on the door.

"Believe me. I understand. I'd like nothing more than to give all the science teams free rein. But there are two things we need to keep reminding ourselves…first of all, that we're guests in this galaxy…and secondly, we're not always welcome ones."

Stone smiled.

"I think that's one thing those of us without the benefit of your experience in the SGC tend to forget. Those are real worlds out there with real dangers."

"Indeed they are," she agreed and moved toward the door.

"Actually…."

There was something in the way he said the word…some slight hesitancy in his voice…that started alarm klaxons sounding in her head. Two heartbeats later she knew she should have kept walking. But by then it was too late.

"…I have some questions about the properties of naquadah—I spent a fair amount of time in the Milky Way galaxy mapping some of the abandoned mines left behind by the goa'uld…and I was wondering if you had any time later to talk. Something less formal, maybe. Like over dinner."

Full blown sirens were going off now. She hadn't seen this one coming until it had been too late. Usually she could tell a guy on the prowl from a hundred feet away. Stone's normalcy compared to his fellow scientists had distracted her, and she'd missed the warning signs completely.

If she had a dollar….

Yeah.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she replied lightly, edging her way toward the door. Maybe he'd simply accept the polite refusal and she could walk away without any further explanation. When he stepped slightly toward her, though, she knew this one was going to be persistent.

"It's just dinner."

Right.

"And I'm just the base commander, Dr. Stone. I don't do 'dinner'."

She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't ready to let this one go. Maybe he was as dense as his name. She doubted she could have been any more blunt. But there it was, that half-smile that said he was sure she was playing hard to get.

A not so commander-like response was on the tip of her tongue when Chuck's voice came over her headset.

Rock Guy didn't know how lucky he was.

"Sorry to disturb you, Colonel…." The urgency in his voice had her complete attention. "But we have an unscheduled wormhole coming in. Thought you'd want to know."

"Thank you…I'll be right there." And without even attempting to be polite, she pushed past Stone and hurried to the Control Room, hoping she wasn't tempting fate by being grateful for the interruption.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's Major Lorne," Chuck informed her before she even had a chance to ask. "He says they're coming in hot…and with casualties."

"Get Doctor Ke…."

"Already on her way, Ma'am," another one of the gate techs informed her. She nodded in acknowledgement. There was no denying they were a well-oiled machine. A moment's swell of pride washed over her.

The force field on the Stargate dropped and she could hear the pings of errant ordinance bouncing off the walls, even as the SFs maintained a defensive position with regard to the event horizon, waiting for whomever…or whatever…to come through. Seconds later a form emerged from the puddle in a low crouch and at breakneck speed. The man pulled up short before running into a marine who shoved him down on the ground and out of the line of fire.

The next shapes to emerge were in an odd formation until she could make out that it was a man and a woman dragging a third person. They'd just made it through the puddle when there was a whizzing sound and a thud. One of the men dropped to his knees, just as Keller and her team appeared in the gate room. She ran forward but was blocked by one of the SFs. Bullets were still flying into the room from the planet.

And there was still one man missing.

"Major Lorne…this is Colonel Carter…come in…what is your situation?"

From the overhead speakers there was a crackle of static. Then an indistinguishable sound of shouting and more bullets. Only not from the gate room. From the other side of the wormhole.

"Don't turn the lights out yet, Colonel…." Lorne's voice was loud—shouted over what she presumed was enemy gunfire. It sounded disturbingly like P90s. She recognized the sharp staccato sound that was not indigenous to weapons of this galaxy. "I'll be there in a sec…."

More gunfire. More stray bullets flying into the gate room. The marine still wouldn't let Keller move on the now two injured men lying in front of the gate. Both were still in harms way.

She hated this. How General Hammond or Jack ever pulled it off, she wished she knew. It was far easier to be the one scrambling for survival than the one who could do nothing but stand by and wait. She could practically see Lorne in her mind, crouched, probably, behind the DHD. Trying to keep whomever was shooting at him from flanking him by alternating sides as he fired. The tingling tension as he knew that inevitably someone would get past his rain of bullets and edge close enough….. The one eye peeled on the wormhole, a nagging worry that he didn't dare think about: that it would somehow shut down before he could get through. The aching leg muscles from staying too long in one position counterbalanced with the tautness needed to launch him toward the great circle, once the need for flight became primary over the need to fight.

She was sweating just thinking about it.

Still. She'd almost rather be there than here. Unable to do a damn thing but wait.

Another volley of bullets. More ducking in the gate room. And then, as if he was making a diving reach for home plate, Lorne came sailing through the wormhole and landed, full force, on the gate room floor, skidding several feet before friction brought him to a halt.

"Shut it down, now!" ordered Sam. She saw fingers fly over keyboards and the blue puddle wrinkled out of existence. From her vantage point she saw Keller hurry over to the wounded while sending others to check out Major Lorne. Just to reassure herself, Sam did another headcount. All five men and women were accounted for. She let out a sigh of relief.

By the time she made it down the stairs, Lorne was on his feet. His uniform had protected his body but he had one whale of an abrasion down one side of his face. It had to burn like fire. He didn't seem to notice.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she asked. "Were those our own weapons firing at you?"

Lorne nodded. Carefully. It looked like it hurt. A lot.

"Yeah. Damn it anyway." He looked as if he suddenly realized whom he was talking to. "Sorry…Colonel.". She waved his apology away. Like she hadn't heard a whole lot worse.

"They were ours," he repeated, sighing heavily. "Colonel Sheppard's going to love that."

"I can't say I'm too crazy about it myself. Do you know who they were?"

He shook his head.

"No clue. We got to the village. Did our usual meet and greet. Got asked to stay to dinner. You know how it goes."

She nodded. She'd done it a million times with SG-1.

"Everything seemed fine. Then…suddenly…it didn't."

"What do you mean?"

Lorne made a face.

"You know…how after you do this a while, you get a gut feeling? Like…even though everything looks real pretty, you know, somehow, the picture's all wrong?"

She knew exactly what he meant. When a person spent time in the field they developed almost a sixth sense. Jack's had probably saved SG-1 more times than she could count.

"There was something wrong with this picture," she surmised. Lorne nodded.

"Oh yeah. At first I didn't think anything about it. We were in a big room….lots of tables. Typical 'Banquet for the Strangers' kind of setting. Then…people started to leave. Not all at once. Just one or two. Here and there. Which is why it didn't raise any red flags at first. Until I began to realize that none of them were coming back."

"They knew there was going to be an ambush."

Lorne shrugged.

"That's what I'm figuring."

"And they were in on it."

"Now that I can't say for sure." The major scratched his head. "Part of me doesn't think so. I mean…unless they're really good actors, I think they were just scared. Somebody tipped them off that there was going to be trouble, and they just were trying to get out of the way. They were terrified, Colonel. And not of us. I'd bet my oak leaves on it."

She trusted Lorne's instincts. If he thought the townspeople were innocent bystanders in this, she'd go with that until someone proved otherwise. Still, there were too many unanswered questions.

"The weapons…." She didn't even have to complete the sentence. Lorne looked as disgusted as John had the first time they'd found themselves fired upon by their own guns.

"Ours. No doubt about it. Probably from that stash that was taken when the Athosians disappeared."

A moan behind her made her turn around in time to see two orderlies lifting one of the wounded airman onto a gurney, Dr. Keller staying close enough to apply continual pressure to an abdominal wound as they headed for the infirmary. Sam made a mental note to stop by in a while and see how the man was doing. The other team member—the one who'd taken a hit through the Stargate—seemed to have only a minor wound. He followed Keller and the others under his own steam.

Turning back to Lorne, she saw his eyes were on the injured members of his team.

"Go on, Major." She indicated the direction of the infirmary with her head. "We can finish this later. Go see to you people."

With a grateful nod, Lorne picked up his gear and followed after the others. She felt a pang of sympathy as she watched him go. That was one thing she didn't miss about her SG-1 days. Knowing the people she cared about most were no longer in harm's way was one less thing she had to worry about. Even if it did mean giving up the certainty that someone had your six, no matter what kind of mess you might find yourself in.


	6. Chapter 6

"Excuse me, Colonel…."

She looked up from her computer screen to see Chuck once again hovering just outside her door. The man was ever present, it seemed. Not that she minded. He was like her own personal guardian angel.

"My shift is over…and I was just wondering if you wanted someone to bring you some dinner from the commissary. You look like you intend to be here for awhile."

Definitely a guardian angel. She smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks…but I think I'm good. I won't be that much longer anyway. Enjoy your evening."

He nodded his head and turned to leave…but hesitated. She could see him debating with himself for a moment before he turned back toward her.

"Colonel…if you don't mind my asking…are you okay?"

Her throat went suddenly tight and she dropped her eyes to the computer, where the words on her screen suddenly blurred into a quavering line. Damn it, anyway.

"It's just…I know you were scheduled to be home for Christmas yourself, and I thought…."

"I'm fine, Chuck. Really." She fought for control and was finally able to raise her head and pass off what she hoped was a reassuring smile. If he noticed her eyes were slightly more moist than usual, he didn't let on. At least not beyond a sympathetic look that accompanied the slight nod he gave her.

"Well…good night, then," he replied, starting to walk away. Something tripped her memory.

"You were scheduled to go home too, weren't you?" she asked after him. He half turned and shrugged.

"Not a big deal. It'll keep."

Now she remembered. The conversation had taken place weeks ago. She'd completely forgotten.

"Your girlfriend's back home—Manitoba, right? You told me you were going to propose…."

Chuck shrugged again.

"Like I said. It'll keep. I figure Valentine's Day is probably a better time anyway, right?" He smiled slightly. "You already approved my February leave last week."

Had she? Probably. She'd lost track of how many she'd signed. The stack had seemed bottomless.

"Anyway," he continued. "Good night, Colonel," and with that he was gone.

She knew he had only been trying to make her feel better, but, in truth, it had had just the opposite effect. She felt a hundred times worse as she watched him wend his way through the control room and vanish from her sight. How many lives had she affected by allowing Midway to be destroyed? What other ways had the decisions she'd made here in Atlantis inalterably changed people's destinies? How many of them would have been better off if she'd never taken command?

She found herself staring at her computer screen. Two windows were open: one was her daily report; the other an email to Jack. She'd started the one to Jack three times already. The first time she hadn't even tried to conceal her disappointment over his absence at the IOA interrogation that morning. Actually, "disappointment" was putting it mildly. Her irritation had been evident in every single word. She'd deleted it as soon as she re-read it. She really had no right to be angry. They'd both agreed that when it came to work it was best to keep the professional boundaries firmly in place. Of course that hadn't kept Jack from finding a reason to be at almost every IOA meeting she'd conferenced in on. Or, when he was at the SGC, conveniently being around at the time of the daily dial-in. And it wasn't that he'd ever done much more than just be there. That, in itself, had always been enough.

And it still was. Except…she hadn't realized how much she'd come to depend on his presence. Not that his being there would have made one bit of difference that morning. The IOA was going to do what the IOA was going to do. But she had counted on his unspoken moral support—and maybe a subtle eye-roll or two—to help her through the ordeal.

Maybe she'd taken to counting on him too much.

Maybe this was the problem. Maybe those boundaries were blurring a little more than they'd intended.

Or…and the thought turned the blood in her veins to ice…maybe it was just the opposite. Maybe he was drawing up those boundaries even more distinctly. Maybe he'd grown weary of a relationship that was forever subject to forces beyond their control and was slowly backing away. They wouldn't be the first couple to be torn apart by this posting. Even when Midway had been operational she'd had at least a half dozen requests for emergency leaves that cited marital difficulties as the reason. Long-term deployments, under the best of circumstances, put a strain on relationships, but the added factor of being in another galaxy seemed to up the ante even more. Maybe having to put all their plans on hold, yet again, for her to take this assignment had been too much to ask. Perhaps Midway's loss had indeed been the final straw.

No. She was reading too much into this. Jack would never do that. Not now. Not after all this time. They'd waited too long, endured too much for something like this to come between them. It was ridiculous to even consider it a possibility.

Still…she couldn't help but notice that there had been a change in him lately. Ever since Midway. His emails—the only way she'd had any communication with him since then—had been vague and brief…well, more vague and more brief than usual. Maybe she was reading more into it than was there, but combined with his being MIA this morning, she couldn't shake the unsettled feeling that nagged at her.

Given that her second attempt at an email had ended up sounding more like a formal memo to the Joint Chiefs, she'd deleted that one too and was now staring at her third effort on the screen.

This one wasn't doing it for her either. It was rare that a day went by that she didn't email Jack, even if it were nothing more than a brief note, but this would be one of those days. The daily report could wait too. She couldn't begin to concentrate on it. And frankly, she didn't even want to try. Deleting the former and saving the latter, she shut down her computer and checked her watch. Sheppard's team was due back in a couple hours. She'd need to be available to debrief them when they arrived, but for now, she just really had to get out of her office. She needed some fresh air…some place alone and quiet, to clear her mind. Some place where she wouldn't have to think about Jack, or Midway or Christmas or about how badly she was disappointing so many people by being Colonel Samantha Carter, Commander of the Atlantis Expedition.


	7. Chapter 7

The view was amazing. She had to give it that. The two moons had risen over the horizon of the sea and hung there, looking almost close enough to touch. In the far distance the third moon had also risen, a small dot compared to it's two sister moons, at least in perspective, if not actuality. Time was when she'd have been far more interested in the astronomical phenomenon laid out before her. Now it was simply the beauty of the scene which captivated her. The moons' reflection on the unusually calm water made the ocean seem as though it was glowing from within. It was enough to take one's breath away.

She'd discovered this balcony the third week she'd been in Atlantis. The one off the main control room had it's own spectacular view, but she'd learned quickly that it didn't afford much privacy. She knew she'd need some other place to escape to and so as she'd toured the city and become familiar with it's layout in the ensuing weeks, she'd kept an eye out for some sort of retreat for herself, away from the main part of the base.

It had been quite by accident that she'd discovered this particular spot. She'd been testing herself…trying to navigate her way without benefit of a guide or a map, in order to get a feel for how things were laid out. She'd been doing fine until she opened a door to what she thought was a main corridor, only to discover that it led to this observation deck. Which was probably a better description of it than balcony, since its area was vast, as if it had been meant to accommodate a large number of people. The way it hung out over the water almost gave it the feeling of a ship's bow, and she could imagine the Alterans gathering here to watch moonrises or sunsets or whatever astronomical event might be worthy of their attention.

She rested her forearms atop the railing and leaned out over the water, closing her eyes. Far below she could hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the city's base. Calm though it was, there was still a slight breeze, cool against her face. She raised her face to it and felt it play with the strands of her hair that had escaped it's braid. The air was fresh and salty and she inhaled deeply, releasing it slowly, trying to relax.

"Tough day?"

Sam whirled around. McKay stood there blinking at her. He'd caught her completely off guard—she hadn't heard him join her on the deck. Checking her watch she saw that John's team hadn't been due back for another hour. She wondered if anything had gone wrong.

"McKay…what are you doing here?"

He managed to look remarkably innocent. "Huh? Oh…just passing by…I saw you out here."

"When did you get back? They should have called me…."

He waggled his finger at her earpiece.

"Battery must be dead. They tried."

She tapped it and nothing happened. Which was odd, as it had been working fine earlier.

"I should get back…." She nodded toward the door. "You can tell me what happened on the way…."

McKay waved his hand dismissively.

"Nothing to tell, really. Actually, Sheppard and the others are still on the planet. I just came back for my antihistamines. You should see the ragweed on that planet…or at least it looks like ragweed…on steroids. Which I should probably get too…." He added half-to himself, snapping his fingers and turning back toward the door.

She relaxed a bit. At least there was one thing that hadn't gone wrong today. McKay's allergies didn't count.

"Well then, tell Colonel Sheppard I'll see him later, " she told him, turning back to the railing. McKay had spoiled the mood, but maybe, once he was gone, she could reclaim at least part of it. If only he would be gone.

"Yeah…later," he muttered distractedly. She heard his retreating footsteps pause. "You know, you didn't answer my question: tough day?

The sigh escaped before she could stop it. Both because he was still here and because he'd hit the nail rather squarely on the head.

"You have no idea."

Somehow he was now standing right next to her.

"Yeah…," he replied. "Probably not. Look—you're not thinking of…you know…." He made a sort of diving motion with his hand. It took her a moment to understand what he was asking.

"What? No! Of course not!"

Relief spread over his face. "Good—I mean…then I'd be forced to…you know…"—he made the diving motion again—"…after you and really…after that whole puddle jumper at the bottom of the ocean thing a couple of years ago, I don't do drowning so well." He shuddered at the memory.

Sam was speechless. She was still trying to get her mind around the fact that he thought she might have been going to jump.

Apparently grasping at some way to change the topic, he joined her at the railing, mirroring her posture, and gestured out toward the horizon.

"The view's nice from here, though…I guess…if you go in for that sort of thing."

Really. The man was exasperating.

"Was there something you wanted, McKay?" She couldn't help the irritation in her voice. Whatever relief her brief solitude here had brought, it had evaporated. She could feel the tension tightening in her shoulders all over again. McKay, however, as usual was completely oblivious.

"Umm. Actually…no. I just was walking by and I saw you out here alone and I thought, well…maybe you needed to talk to someone."

That, admittedly, caught her off-guard. Even though the last person in the world she wanted to talk to right now was Rodney McKay, the fact that he'd even offer was nothing short of incredible. Not exactly the Rodney who used to trail her around the SGC with his libido hanging out.

She tried to ameliorate her temper. "That was very sweet of you, Rodney. But I'm fine, really."

He leaned back on one arm and half-turned to look at her. "Yeah…here's the thing…I mean…I don't go in for this whole Christmas thing myself, but I know a lot of people do. And seeing as how this is your first Christmas here and I know from other people telling me about it—whether I wanted them to or not—that being here and not home for Christmas, like you'd planned, really sucks, I figured…well…maybe you were feeling kind of…umm…lonely."

Alarm bells suddenly started going off in her head. Maybe it was the same old Rodney after all. Just what she needed. Time to nip where this was going in the bud. ASAP.

"Look…Rodney," she began. "I think I really ought to tell…."

But he interrupted her before she could finish. "You see…it's just…well. I know that I liked to delude myself into thinking that at one time there might have been, you know…something between us, but I'm over that now. I really am. Besides. I've sort of…um…heard things about how you're—you know—taken, anyway, so it's sort of a moot issue at this point, isn't it?"

A different set of alarm bells started going off now.

"'Taken'?" she repeated the word cautiously.

McKay had resumed staring at the view. "Hmm? Yeah…anyway…I guess what I'm trying to say, Sam, is—since there's no longer any sort of…," he paused for a moment and swallowed before continuing with only the slightest quaver in his voice. "Uh…danger zone…between us, I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you if you need me—as a friend," he added hastily, observing what must have been a highly dubious look on her face. "Strictly as a friend—cause, you know…I wouldn't want _him_ getting any wrong ideas about us. Or me. Or…crap. This isn't coming out right, is it?"

Okay…so not the old McKay after all. Sam smothered a smile.

"Don't worry, Rodney. I get it."

He seemed genuinely surprised that she did.

"Really? Huh. Okay…well…good then. Hey…I'll just leave you to your…view."

He turned to go.

"Rodney…."

She turned toward him and he stopped.

"Yeah?"

She smiled. "Thanks."

His face brightened noticeably, even in the twilight.

"Sure thing." He started once again to leave. Except now she suddenly and inexplicably knew that she really didn't want to be alone after all.

"Rodney…." He stopped again at the sound of his name and gave her a quizzical look. "Actually…." Now she was the one stammering. "I guess I wouldn't mind the company."

This truly did surprise him. "Really?" He may have actually beamed. "Oh…yeah…sure…of course!"

In a few strides he was back by her side, leaning against the rail. They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the rising moons.

But McKay's words were bothering her. She needed to know what he knew.

"So…." She cleared her throat slightly. "What exactly have you heard?"

Obviously his thoughts had been elsewhere. "Huh? Oh…you mean about you and…." He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the Milky Way.

"Yeah."

She could see his face redden, even in the fading light.

"Oh you know me…stuff like that…in one ear…out the other."

He wouldn't look at her. And in spite of the fact that she'd half known that whispers like this were bound to get around, it still bothered her. A lot more than she'd expected it to.

"I see."

Rodney must have realized the implication of her tone of voice because he suddenly tried to back-peddle.

"I'm sure it's only half as bad as you think it is…I mean…not nearly as bad as you think it is," he stammered. "Besides, anyone who knows you would know it's not like that at all. And I'm sure his daughter likes you just fine."

Once again Sam felt like she was having a completely different conversation.

"His daughter?"

"Yeah…Lin…Lan…Lam…that's is, isn't it. Lam."

Sam snapped her mouth shut because it had obviously dropped open. Good lord…he didn't think…?

"Wait a minute…," she managed finally. "Are you telling me people think I'm involved with _General Landry_?

McKay looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I think so…well…I mean…they said a general, so I just assumed…wait, you're not?"

She threw up her hands in exasperation, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"McKay!!! He's my superior officer…my boss! Do you have any idea how wrong that would be?" she asked him, incredulously. He cringed a little at the tone of her voice.

"As wrong as you being involved with me?" he offered up, pathetically. "Okay…." McKay began scrambling for words, squirming a bit under her glare. "So…I'm sorry. I guess I got my facts a little wrong. Gossip isn't my thing. I was always terrible at it. Even as a kid. We used to play that game…telephone…in school…you know, where one kid whispers a secret to another kid and he whispers it to another kid and it goes all around the circle and the last kid has to say aloud what it was? I never got it right…not even close. Once I thought…."

One. Nerve. Left….

"McKay!" she barked at him. He clamped his mouth down tight.

"Sorry…," he apologized. She could still see the wheels turning in his head. "So…if it's not Landry, who is it?

"That's none of your business," she snapped at him. Even so, she was relieved that he was probably the only one who'd made an assumption about Landry. Jack would get a kick out of it, but she wasn't so sure Hank Landry would.

Now, however, it was McKay's turn to be irritated. "Oh sure…it was fine a few minutes ago when you thought I knew…but now that you know I don't know suddenly you don't want me to know…."

Even he seemed confused by how that had come out. Not that she cared.

"Look…just drop it, okay?"

He had a slightly petulant look on his face, like a child who'd just been denied a piece of candy. "Fine. I will."

"Thank you." It came out more archly than grateful. She still didn't care. The sooner they were away from the topic, the better.

"It's just…."

That was the last straw. She exploded.

"Oh for cryin' out loud, McKay!"

He cringed again but persevered, despite her having yelled at him. "Look…I'm sorry…but…just hear me out, okay? I know I'm not the best person to give advice…trust me. I mean…I've screwed up more relationships than…."

Sam was still glaring. He obviously got the message.

"…right. That's beside the point. The thing is. If that's what's got you out here staring off into space…then you can't just give up on it. Whoever the guy is. I mean…hey…if he's gotten your attention, he's got to be pretty wonderful, right? I mean…you threw me over for him, so…."

She was about to try to correct his woefully misplaced sense of ego when she realized the corner of his mouth was raised up in that quirky smile he did when he was trying to make a joke. He was actually teasing her.

"Well…you know…yeah. He _is_ pretty wonderful. But you're right. He certainly is no Rodney McKay," she replied with a slight smile.

She could have sworn his smug smile was actually self-deprecating.

"Yes…well…who is, huh? Except me, of course."

With the slightest of chuckles she turned back to the now black water. Bits of cloud were scuttling across the faces of the moons and the wind had picked up slightly. She shivered, despite her jacket. For all of Rodney's assurances, doubt was still chiseling away at her peace of mind. He didn't have a clue really. Not about Jack or any of the rest of it.

"I don't know, Rodney. Are there ever days you wish you had never been born?" she asked quietly. He gave a small snort.

"No. Not really."

She closed her eyes and shook her head, bemused. Why did that not surprise her?

"Wait…you're serious?" McKay's voice dripped incredulity. "You…? Oh come on, Sam. You of all people shouldn't even think like that! I mean…wow. How many times did you save Earth from total annihilation? Just think what would have happened to us if you hadn't been around!"

She shook her head again.

"Someone else would have stepped up and done the same thing. Maybe even you, Rodney," she added.

"Well…I suppose…yeah, sure," he snorted. "The science stuff. Of course. But the military stuff…not that I haven't done my share here, you know…but General O'Neill probably would have had me shot before he'd ever have assigned me to SG1."

"Then there'd have been someone else. I'm not that special."

Now it was Rodney's turn to be exasperated. "Oh pul-eez! You really have no idea, do you?"

She had a feeling she'd been down this road before.

"You're not going to tell me I'm a national treasure, are you?" she asked warily.

"What? No…of course not. Who would say such a thing?"

She hoped her face was as indistinguishable in the dark as his was. She turned back toward the water, just to be sure.

"Never mind," she told him. "Fine. I'm glad I was born. It's just that sometimes I wonder…." She stopped. Really. The last thing she needed to be doing was baring her soul to Rodney McKay.

"What? You wonder what?"

His voice held more concern than curiosity, and for the second time in an hour she was blind-sided by the realization that someone might actually care about how she was. Aside from those few weeks she'd spent hobbling around the city on crutches, everyone pretty much always assumed she was fine. Which she was…mostly. It was just that up until now, no one had ever really bothered to ask. And the one person who really did care how she truly was, was three million light years away. Although, at the moment, it seemed infinitely farther.

So…what would it hurt to tell Rodney? Really? It wasn't like there was anyone else, at the moment, wondering how she felt.

She took a deep breath.

"It's just…there are times I wonder if accepting this post was the right thing to do." She shook her head slowly. "Sometimes I can't help but think that a whole lot of people would be a lot better off right now if I'd never taken this job. It's days like today, Rodney, when I really wish I'd never come here."

He was staring at her, but not with a look of shock or dismay. In fact…oddly…he was smiling, knowingly. Apparently her big confession hadn't been much of one after all.

"Uh-huh!" he exclaimed, still smiling. It was almost approaching a grin now. It was becoming annoying. "I had a feeling you were going to say something like that. Okay. Fine. You think Atlantis is better off without you? Let's see, shall we?"

He pulled his PDA from his jacket pocket and began pressing buttons.

"McKay…what _are_ you doing?" She'd known him to go off on a tangent before…his brain light-years ahead of his ability to explain what it was doing; but this was odd behavior. Even for McKay.

He didn't answer her right away but continued to type some sort of equation on the key pad. His forehead furrowed in concentration as he chewed on his lower lip.

"Uh-huh…uh-huh…just a minute…." He worked the keypad some more. "And just. One. More. Thing." With a dramatic flair he tapped the enter key. "There!" He announced proudly. "That should do it."

He looked expectantly upward, his smug smile still in place. She waited. Five seconds. Ten. Nothing. The smugness turned into confusion and he looked back down at the PDA.

"It should have worked…!" he scowled at the screen, scrolling through whatever it was he'd done. "I don't under…oh…wait…." His fingers flew over the keypad again. "There! Ha! Now…behold!" And he tapped the enter key once again.

The air around them shimmered. But not just around them. Everywhere things just seemed to…shift. The city itself seemed to have shivered for just the slightest moment, and then it stopped, leaving everything seemingly as it had been before.

"McKay…what did you do? What was that?" She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. She had no idea what had just happened, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Not only that, but whatever had happened McKay had done it deliberately. Damn right she was angry.

"That? Nothing to worry about. Just a little quantum shift is all. Completely harmless."

She gaped at him. Surely he was joking.

"Nope. Not joking. I assure you it's very real," he continued, as if he'd read her thoughts.

"You're telling me that…just like that…you jumped us to an alternate universe?" she asked, still incredulous. For his part, McKay actually looked modest.

"Well…I wouldn't say 'just like that'…the equation was really quite complex. You'd be amazed at the number of variables that have to be taken into account."

The man had lost it. Seriously lost it. Either that, or she had.

"Oh I'm quite sane, Sam. As are you. And I wouldn't really call this an alternate universe…if it were, then there would be an infinite number of changes by an infinite number of people at an infinite number of points along the decision tree. And really, I'm only concerned with one decision at one point in time. So I prefer to call it an 'alternate possibility'."

"An 'alternate possibility'? McKay…that's…."

"Brilliant, I know. Thought of it myself," he beamed. "Of course that one decision at one point in time that we're interested in is that moment when you chose to come to Atlantis. And since we already knows how it turned out when you said 'yes', this time we're going to see what happens when you said 'no'."

Suddenly she understood.

"This isn't real, is it. None of it. I'm dreaming." It made so much more sense now. "I probably feel asleep in my office and this is a lucid dream. All I have to do is wake myself up…."

But McKay was shaking his head.

"Nope. Definitely not a dream. It's actually all quite real. See?" He reached out and punched her arm. Hard.

"McKay!"

He looked both apologetic and amazed as he examined his fist. "Sorry! I had no idea I could hit that hard. Wow…."

She rubbed the spot with her opposite hand as she tried to come up with another explanation. McKay certainly felt real enough. So…not a dream.

A cold chill passed through her. If it wasn't a dream then there was only one other logical explanation.

Replicators. They were the only ones she knew who could create a reality that was indistinguishable from the real thing. Sights. Sounds. Smells. Touch—she rubbed her arm again—they all could seem excruciatingly real. Even people she knew—perfect down to the last detail. Memories of Fifth and her Replicator doppelganger assaulted her. Some Replicator, some where, must have survived and in reality she was probably on her knees somewhere with a hand firmly wedged into her brain.

"You're not real," she told McKay, firmly. "I understand now. You're not really Rodney McKay."

A momentary look of frustration passed over his face. "We just went through this…I told you…this isn't…."

"A dream. I know. And you're right…it's not. Not really, anyway. There are Replicators on Atlantis, aren't there. And you…or whoever is projecting you…has their hand in my head right now, don't they. They're what's creating this reality—using my thoughts and memories to create the illusion of Rodney McKay—except this is all going on in my head. None of this is really here. Not even me."

McKay sighed wearily and adopted a look of fraying patience. He took a step toward her, but when she instinctively backed away from him, he stopped, raising his arms slightly in a gesture of exasperation.

"Look…Sam….you have to believe me. I'm not a dream. I'm not created by little tiny micro machines running around in your bloodstream. And I'm not here to hurt you. I'm actually here to help. If you'll let me. But you've got to trust me, or else none of this is going to make any sense to you whatsoever." Now he took a tentative step toward her again. She didn't budge. "Do you trust me, Sam? Please?"

She didn't know if it was the "please"—so un-Rodney-like—or the dead-set earnest look on his face. But suddenly she did trust him. At least enough to go along with this for now.

And besides. Whomever he was–the real Rodney McKay or something else entirely—and whatever he'd done, she'd need to figure out how to fix it, eventually. So it couldn't hurt to play along for now, at least until she knew exactly what was going on. Then she'd decide what to do.

And just when she thought the day couldn't get any better.

With a sigh she nodded, gesturing toward the rest of the city with her hand.

"Let's see it, then. Lead on, McKay."


	8. Chapter 8

"So…who are you…really?" she asked as they walked through the corridors back toward the central tower. "I mean…I know you're not Rodney McKay…not unless you've been holding out on us all this time."

McKay…or whoever he was…just looked smug. "I told you, you're just going to have to trust me."

"Ah," she replied, archly. "I see. The thing is…I've done that whole 'jump to an alternate universe' thing before. I can't say I'm thrilled about this."

"I told you…it's more like an alternate possibility. And no…no I don't imagine you are. Or that you will be, either. But…it's really the only way. So I guess you're stuck with me for now."

"The only way for what?" she asked. Even if it wasn't Rodney he certainly had McKay's gift for obfuscation.

"You'll see," was all he said—maddeningly. "So…tell me why you think the people of Atlantis…or anyone else, for that matter, would be better off if you'd never come here?"

Fine. She'd play along.

"I'm not sure I fully appreciated the impact my command here would have on so many people. Not just the members of the expedition, but on people throughout this galaxy." This was true enough. It hadn't been until Davos had shared his vision with her that she'd truly understood the far-reaching consequences of every choice she made in this place. "I just don't know that people are better off for me being here…or that, in moments of crisis, that I've made the right decisions."

"Really? Which decisions in particular are you referring to?" he asked.

She stopped walking and he stopped too.

"Now see…," she pointed her finger at him. "If you were the real McKay you'd know what I'm talking about."

The smug smile was back.

"Oh I know very well what I'm talking about. I'm just not sure you do. By the way….notice anything different about the place?" He indicated their surroundings and for the first time she saw where they were. One of the main corridors of the central tower.

And there was something different about the place. It was quiet. And empty. Too quiet and too empty, even for this time of day.

"What's going on?" she asked, doubting she'd get a straight answer. "Where is everyone?"

The sound of muffled footsteps caused her to turn around. A person had turned a distant corner and was heading their way. McKay stepped back to let the person pass, which he did without so much as a glance their way. There was an odd passivity to the man as he walked by. His attention seemed so focused inward that their presence didn't even appear to register. And not that she knew every single person on the base by sight, but his face didn't trigger any sort of recognition at all. Even his clothes….

"Replicators?" she hissed the question to McKay as they watched the man disappear around another corner.

"Yes. Actually. What gave him away? The blank stare or the poor wardrobe choice?"

"How'd they get here? How many are there?" From this location they weren't too far from a weapons locker. ARGs were still their best defense. If they could….

"How many? I dunno…hundreds. I think. It's hard to tell. They never talk—it's all done through their shared link. Quiet little buggers, aren't they?"

Hundreds. Not good. They'd need to find the others first. Lay out a strategy.

"Oh don't bother," McKay said. "They've completely taken over the city. They've been here for quite some time, actually. Fixed the place up rather nicely, if I do say so. You should have seen it after the Wraith got done with it."

She shot him a sideways look, still watching where the replicator had vanished from view.

"Wraith? In Atlantis? When? How?"

"Todd…or whatever he's called. He made good on his threat. One very clear transmission into subspace with Atlantis' location attached. Within a day there were more hive ships headed this way than I think even they knew existed."

She shook her head.

"No…that's not right. We made a deal with him. And when the other hive ship showed up, they were both destroyed. No transmissions were sent."

"Ahhhh. That's what happened when _you_ were in charge of Atlantis. Colonel Caldwell didn't exactly follow the same game plan."

"Wait…Stephen Caldwell is in charge of Atlantis? What happened to Sheppard? He was next on the list."

McKay winced.

"Yeah…well…here's the thing. Sheppard turned it down. Can you believe that? He said he didn't belong behind a desk…he'd rather be out in the field—like getting shot at all the time is that much fun…." He made a small grunt of distaste. "They were iffy about him anyway—you know that, don't you? They really didn't want anything less than…what are you again? A full bird Colonel? Yeah…and he…you know…wasn't…." He waved a finger at where her silver eagles would normally be. "And General Landry wasn't about to promote him. Not yet, anyway."

That wasn't how she'd remembered the conversation going. Landry had been very clear with the IOA that John Sheppard had his full support, regardless of his lesser rank. He'd done an excellent job as commander both times he'd had to step into the role and there was consensus that he would be just as effective as it's full-time leader.

"Yeah…well…they were willing to say that because they already knew you were in the bag…so to speak." McKay answered her unspoken thoughts. It was getting unnerving.

"Would you please stop that?" she snapped. "Half of me still thinks you're a replicator somewhere with its hand in my head. At least do me the courtesy of pretending I have some privacy, even if it's as much an illusion as all of this."

"Sorry." He did seem to be genuinely contrite. "And I've explained…this isn't an illusion its…"

"Right. Alternate possibility. Got it. So…when I said 'no'…and Sheppard turned it down, they went with Caldwell?" The fact that Caldwell had been selected intrigued her. She knew in the past that he and John had butted heads. She couldn't imagine Sheppard would have been too pleased with the choice.

"Isn't that what I just said?" Rodney's petulant tone was unmistakable. "Yes…Caldwell. And No. No one was thrilled with the choice. Not then…and certainly not later."

"Because he didn't make the deal with Todd?"

McKay snorted. "Oh it started long before that. He hadn't been here three hours before he confined Ronan to his quarters. He took him off Sheppard's team too. No off-world travel. Ronan had run into some of his old Satedan buddies who needed help, but Caldwell figured he was too much of a security risk. You can imagine that both he and Sheppard were pretty pissed. Teyla too. She threatened to leave, herself, but Sheppard talked her into staying, saying she'd just better tough it out or else she'd probably end up like Ronan."

"Wait…that's when we learned the Wraith were experimenting on the Replicators…it's what gave Todd credibility when he turned up later with his plan…." If they hadn't gone with the Satedans, they never would have known. Which, apparently, was the point.

"Exactly!" McKay exclaimed. "Although we were screwed long before then anyway. Come on. Really. We're good here." He started walking in the direction the Replicator had come from and motioned for her to join him. Walking into the midst of Replicator Central wasn't quite what she wanted to do, but McKay…or, more correctly, his doppelganger…had told her to trust him. So she would. For a little while longer, at least.

"What else happened? Why were you screwed?" she whispered as she followed him. She had to admit…his story was intriguing, if a little daunting.

"Well…they didn't have me, you see. Only Zelenka, by the time Todd showed up. And we both know that's like sending a peewee team in for the pros."

He was losing her now.

"Where were you…I mean, where was McKay?" she corrected, reminding herself that this wasn't really Rodney giving her the tour. Rodney's shoulders drooped.

"Oh...umm…back on earth," he said, evasively. She waited for more, but he apparently needed further prodding.

"Why?"

The shoulders slumped even more.

"Well," he mumbled. "If you must know, it was the result of that nasty little entity we brought back from…I can't remember the planet. The crystal ones. That got into people's dreams?"

"Oh." She remembered only two well. That was when they'd lost Dr. Heightmeyer. A horrible and completely unnecessary death. And her first while in command. It had weighed heavily on her at the time. Not that the loss of anyone under her wasn't hard; but Kate Heightmeyer's death had been particularly difficult to accept because it never should have happened. It had taken her three days to write the condolence letter to Heightmeyer's family. Every time she'd tried, the words had ended up sounding hollow and inadequate. The final draft hadn't really done the job either, but by then she'd come to accept that words were never really going to be enough. She'd hoped it would get easier over time. But as she'd written letter after letter in the months since, it hadn't. Jack had warned her, but still. She hadn't really understood until she was in his boots.

"See…without you around, no one ever thought of that device you brought over from the SGC," McKay was explaining. "So when the thing got into me, no one had any way of getting it out. They let it kill me, thinking they could bring me back, once it came out…which is sort of what happened with you…except in may case they took too long. I stroked out when they brought me back, which, of course, bought me a one-way ticket back to the Milky Way and a nice long stay in a rehab center." He sighed. "I live with Jeannie now. The brain is still as sharp as a tack," he tapped his head. "But the communicating part…not so good." There was a bitter smile on his face.

She didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry…," she tried, but he waved his hand dismissively.

"Not your fault. I mean…not directly, anyway. I'm just saying…without you on Atlantis, I end up eating oatmeal three times a day. Not that you would have had any way of knowing that. Until now, that is."

They'd arrived at a transporter station and McKay gestured for her to enter.

"Where are we going?"

"Control Room, where else?" he replied.

"What about the Replicators?"

He chuckled. "I told you. We don't have to worry about them. Trust me."

She eyed him warily before stepping into the small space.

"You keep saying that. I'm still here, aren't I?"

He flashed her a large grin just as the entire room began to dissolve around them, and "Yes. Yes you are," was the last thing she heard as everything around her vanished.


	9. Chapter 9

"Come check this out!"

McKay had walked unconcernedly through the Control Room filled with Replicators and out the doors onto the balcony. Sam had lagged behind. For whatever reason, the Asurans were choosing to ignore them, which was fine. However, she didn't want to provoke them or disturb them in any way, in cast that status quo changed. Being waved at by McKay from the balcony wasn't exactly the low-profile she was hoping they'd be keeping.

Still, not one Replicator did so much as glance in her direction as she carefully wound her way through the aisles of consoles. Which was odd. She couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine as she passed amongst them. Too many bad memories.

The first thing she noticed when she joined McKay on the balcony was the smell. Instead of the usual clean scent of the ocean there was an acrid smell in the air, like over-heated electronics, or a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she could make out shapes in the distance. But they weren't the shapes she was accustomed to seeing. They were wrong, somehow. The entire view, even at night, was wrong.

"Good eye," McKay said, obviously reading her thoughts again. She didn't mind this time, actually. She wasn't sure how to voice the emotions that were unexpectedly rising to the surface. Whole sections of the city were missing. The grace and beauty of the Ancients' design had been turned somehow into charred and broken ruins, it's intricate pattern and almost crystalline perfection shattered. She had seen it like this before, of course. In Davos' vision. But to stand here now and overlook the destruction first hand—she couldn't help it. Tears came to her eyes.

"Yeah," said McKay, quietly somber. "I know how you feel. Believe me."

"How?" she managed finally through a throat almost too tight to make a sound.

"Aerial bombardment. Half the hive ships were firing on each other, settling old scores, I guess. But the other half took aim at Atlantis. It was chaos. The destruction…well…you can see."

"What happened to my people?" she struggled to ask the question. It didn't matter if this was another reality or whatever the hell he was calling it. They were still her people. Her responsibility.

"Not your people, I'm afraid…Caldwell's. And they did manage to evacuate some of them through the gate to Midway and back to the SGC. A lot of the science teams, actually. Dr. Burgh, for example, and his people. Most of mine. Well…they used to be mine. They were Zelenka's by then, of course."

"Sheppard? Teyla? Ronan?" She had to ask, although she was sure she knew the answer before McKay even spoke.

"Sheppard, actually, made it out of the city." There was a mixture of pride and envy in his voice. "When Caldwell decided it was too risky keeping a wormhole open to Midway, they shut it down so they could dial the Pegasus Alpha Site and evacuate people there instead. Except, of course, the Wraith dialed in before they could get a lock. That's when Sheppard began loading up the puddle jumpers with as many people as they could carry. Most of them actually made it too. The Wraith only picked off two or three before they could cloak."

She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach thinking of over-populated puddle-jumpers trying to gain altitude and cloak at the same time. John, of course, would put as many people in them as they could possibly hold. Two or three meant twenty or thirty people. She didn't even want to think about who they might have been.

"Ronan, of course, wasn't the least bit interested in running from the fight. He stayed. It took three Wraith to bring him down, though. Right outside the infirmary, actually." She thought she heard a slight catch in his voice.

"Teyla?" She could only imagine the pregnant Athosian, torn between defending Atlantis and fleeing to safety. Sheppard, though, she was certain, would have made sure she was on one of the puddle jumpers. But by the reaction on McKay's face, she knew something hadn't gone right there either.

"Yeah…things didn't turn out so well for her, I'm afraid," he said, uncomfortably.

"Tell me."

He winced. "Are you sure you want to know?"

No, she wasn't. But she had to know anyway.

"Isn't that why I'm here? To find out why I needed to be here in the first place?" she replied, testily.

McKay nodded. "You're right, of course. It's just…well…here's the thing: she became a Wraith worshipper."

"What?" She refused to believe this. Not Teyla. Never Teyla. But McKay was nodding, his face sorrowful again.

"Sheppard tried to wait until she was on board—his was the last jumper out—but it was either leave her behind or risk losing everyone else. It about killed him, but he did it."

"But how'd she become a worshipper? Why?" She still couldn't process this information. Of all the things that could have befallen the Athosian, she never would have guessed this.

"Quite simple, really. It was because of the…you know….." He gestured in the general direction of Sam's abdomen. "The baby." He got the word out finally. "They took her away to feed on her, but she bargained with the queen to spare her life and the baby's by becoming a worshipper. She's one of them now. Or at least she was," he added quietly.

"McKay…," she threatened.

"Fine…she was killed. When the Wraith attacked Midway. We think she might have actually helped them. Not willingly…," he added hastily. "That whole telepathy-with-the-Wraith thing works both ways. They probably blackmailed her into it with the baby. But still. It happened."

Sam leaned heavily on the railing. It would have been easy to dismiss this McKay's story as just that…a story…if the evidence wasn't right before her eyes. The ruins of the city. The control of the gate by the Replicators. And the dread certainty that, given the circumstances, everyone she knew would do exactly what McKay said they did, meeting their fates while trying to protect or resist. There was a truth to this scenario she couldn't deny.

"Did Sheppard and the other puddle jumpers escape?" she asked finally. Surely in this possibility there had to be some good news.

"Eventually. They sort of limped along until they found a planet with a gate. They had Zelenka with them and somehow…don't ask me how…he managed to hack into the DHD and upload the macro so they could access the gate network." He shook his head. "Bad timing, though. An few hours earlier and they'd have been okay. By the time they got there, though, the Wraith had taken it over and were staging for their attack on Earth. Sheppard and the others never had a chance."

She closed her eyes. In her mind she could see the whole thing. Sheppard and the others, coming through the gate at Midway, it would have been like shooting fish in a barrel. McKay was right. They never would have had a chance.

Her eyes flew open. Did McKay just say what she thought he said?

"Did you say an attack on Earth?" she whirled on him. If possible he looked even more mournful.

"I did say that, didn't I."

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"Tell me."

"Do you want the good news first or the bad news?" She must have looked as close to losing her patience as she felt because McKay hurried on. "Right. Okay…the good news is, the Wraith never made it out of the SGC. Someone in the Control Room managed to get the iris back up and the wormhole disengaged before a third wave of them could invade. There were only twenty…thirty, tops…on the base. And even though they put up one hell of a fight, in the end, we prevailed." The smile on McKay's face was clearly forced. Obviously there was more.

"And what's the bad news?" she asked. The other shoe had to drop sometime. She suspected it was now.

"Ummm…well…there were a lot of casualties at the SGC. A lot of people died before they got the situation under control. Including…," he swallowed hard and grimaced. "Uh…you, Sam."

"Me."

McKay nodded. "Sorry."

She shook her head. Not that she didn't believe in her own destructibility. But to fall at the hands of the Wraith not here in Atlantis but on Earth…there was a certain irony to it, she had to admit.

"Actually," he stammered. "You weren't killed by the Wraith…." His voice trailed off for a moment. "It was an accident. You came around a corner…some eager-beaver marine…. It was friendly fire, Sam. You were killed by friendly fire."

A chill went through her that time. She could almost imagine it. The maze-like corridors of the SGC. Intersections everywhere. How many times had she pulled up her own weapon, a hairs-breadth away from firing on one of her own team? Or been the one in the site, spared only by Jack's even quicker reflex? Some young jar-head…jumpy, with a hair-trigger…firing at shapes and shadows. She could see it happening.

Oh god…Jack.

McKay cleared his throat, nervously, but she barely noticed. For the first time since this whole bizarre evening had started, she began to feel something akin to panic. If, in this scenario, she was dead…then that meant….

But wait. No. This wasn't real. It was…what did McKay call it…a possibility. A what-if scenario. Played out through some kind of weird vision or…still more probable…a hand in her head somewhere. She was still alive. Atlantis was as it was. And Jack was not alone, grieving over her in some dark night of his soul.

No matter how real all of this might feel.

She pulled herself together, stuffing the momentary panic back into it's box.

"Look…McKay…or whoever you are. This is a very interesting story you've put together here. But that's all it is. A story. You said so yourself. It's a possibility. That's all. And one that didn't happen. Because I'm here. I made the choice and I came to Atlantis. So none of this really means anything."

"Uh-uh…" McKay raised his finger. "I did say it was a possibility. I didn't say it never happened. And you're getting too hung up on the multiverse theory here, Sam. This has nothing whatsoever to do with quantum physics. It's about granting your wish. You wished you'd never come to Atlantis…and now you haven't. It really can't get much simpler than that."

She shook her head. It was starting to ache.

"But I'm here, Rodney. And if I had really been killed at the SGC, then I couldn't be standing here now."

The faintly superior smile was back.

"Who says you are?" he replied, knowingly. Then, looking over her shoulder, he shouted: "Hey…you in there! Out here!" He waved his arms over his head to get their attention. Not a single Replicator looked his way. After a moment he dropped his arms back to his side and looked smugly at Sam. "Now you try."

She wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to prove, and she didn't know if she felt more silly or trepidatious doing it, but she called out to the control room anyway. "Excuse me! Hello…excuse me?" And as with McKay, there was not even an eye twitch in response.

Which didn't prove anything, really.

"Fine. So they can't see me. It only means you can make us invisible to them," Sam conceded, grudgingly. "Even I can do that with Merlin's phase-shifting device." McKay, however, was shaking his head again.

"No. It means you aren't here. That's why they can't see you. You don't exist. Not here on Atlantis. Not back on Earth. At least, not any more." All conceit vanished and he gave her a most un-McKay-like stare. "This is the reality your wish created, Sam. It is what it is because you chose to stay on earth. It's done."

For just a moment she couldn't breathe. Steel bands of renewed panic tightened around her chest and her legs trembled under her own weight until she sank back against the railing. She wanted to keep denying everything he was saying—to find a hundred and one rational, scientific reasons why what he'd told her was completely and utterly impossible. She _was_ alive. She _was_ on Atlantis. None of this was real. None of this was true.

But she couldn't. And even as she found her breath again and heard her own heart pounding in her ears, she knew with horrible certainty that he was speaking the truth. Nothing was as it had been. All of it was gone. Entirely undone. She had turned down Atlantis and the consequences of that choice lay at her feet.

The city in ruins.

Her life in ruins.

And Jack….

"Where is he?" She wheeled on McKay. "I need to know what's happened to him. I need to see him. And don't…." she didn't bother to control her anger now. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Don't tell me you don't know who I mean. You know _exactly_ what I'm thinking. I want to see him. I want to see him now."

McKay was gazing at her with something akin to pity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam. No. I…can't."

She barely resisted the urge to physically shake him. How dare he. How _dare_ he do this to her…to them…and then deny her this. White hot fury surged through her.

"Can't…or won't?" she snapped. It was with some satisfaction that she saw him flinch.

"Well…won't…I guess. I mean…I shouldn't," he stammered. "Technically, it's against the rules. This is supposed to be enough."

Rules? There were rules? She shook her head.

"No…I'm not buying it, McKay. You've shown me everything else. You've got to show me this. I need to know what's happened to Jack."

"You're not going to like it," he replied, cautiously. "I can promise you that." He sighed deeply. "Fine. Fine. As you wish. But don't say I didn't warn you." And indicating that she should follow, he headed back toward the Control Room and down the stairs to where the gate stood silent.

She followed him through the midst of the Replicators, unseen and unheard. The day was when she might have given anything for just such an ability. Now, though, she wished that even one of them could actually see her. Better that than to walk among them in this state of non-existence.

As they neared the gate it became more difficult to deny the knot that was becoming like a lead weight in her stomach. She needed to see Jack, of that she had no doubt. But what she would find when she got there—simply put, it terrified her. She knew if she gave her imagination even the slightest free-rein, it would take her places she did not want to go. Yet she had to know. For her own sake. And for his.

McKay stretched out his arm and entered something on a device attached to his wrist. Within seconds the gate sprung to life, the wormhole instantly appearing. She'd seen such devices before and for a moment her curiosity was vaguely piqued, but it was swiftly overtaken by the now unavoidable fear that was so close to overwhelming her. For just a few brief moments her feet would not obey and she stood there staring at the shimmering event horizon.

"Coming?" There was a slight petulance in McKay's tone.

With all her heart she wanted to say no. What she was about to discover on the other side of the Stargate frightened her beyond words.

She walked forward anyway, pausing only momentarily on the cusp of the wormhole to gather whatever shreds of her courage she could find. And then, taking a deep breath, she stepped on through.


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as the car slipped into the exit lane and coasted down the ramp she knew exactly where they were going. She'd driven the route so often she could have done it in her sleep—and she didn't wonder but that she actually had, from time to time; half-dead from fatigue and barely able to keep her eyes focused on the road.

Unlike now, of course…when she was completely dead.

She glanced at McKay who had his eyes fixed firmly on the road over the shoulder of the car's driver who was completely oblivious to their presence. He'd refused to answer her question about their destination earlier, and while she'd suspected this was where they'd be headed, she hadn't been absolutely sure until now.

Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't bring with it any comfort. She watched familiar landmarks slip by and felt the growing dread in the pit of her gut as each turn brought them closer and closer. And the fact that Chief Master Sergeant Harriman, who was at the wheel, seemed himself to grow more uneasy by the moment did not help matters in the least. He'd been somber enough already when they'd left the SGC, which was a vast departure for the man she thought she knew well enough.

Actually, she hadn't been sure what she'd find when she'd stepped through the wormhole McKay had conjured up back on Atlantis. And so it had been with a vague sense of relief when she'd discovered herself walking down the well-worn ramp in the gate room at the SGC—even if no one gave any kind of sign that they were remotely aware of her presence. McKay had been right on her heels, still quite obviously not happy to be there, but he'd guided her in the direction of the hallway and as soon as they exited, took point, leading her to the elevator where Chief Harriman had been leaving for the day. Or so she'd thought. At least until he'd taken that particular exit from the freeway and started driving in the direction of home.

Her home.

_Their_ home. The one they'd kept even after she'd transferred out to Area 51 and he to Washington with the semi-rational reasoning that the SGC would still be Ground Zero for both of them and it would make sense to keep some sort of residence nearby. They'd nearly flipped a coin, but in the end they'd kept hers and sold his if for no other reason than hers was closer to the Mountain. Not that she'd complained. She'd had too many unsettling experiences at Jack's house for her to even begin to feel comfortable there. Not that her own home was much better. She by far preferred their condo in DC, infused with only their own shared memories. Or, better yet, the cabin, where their lives had finally and irrevocably come together.

Or maybe not so irrevocably, after all. Walter turned the last corner and slowed to a stop in front of the house. Homesickness overwhelmed her. Even if this wasn't her favorite place any more it was still home. Half a year had passed since she'd been here and right this moment she wanted nothing more than to walk through its familiar rooms and curl up in her very own bed beneath warm blankets that smelled faintly of Jack's aftershave. There had been little to comfort her in the sterile quarters of the Ancient city, with its stark gray walls and relentlessly aseptic linens from the Atlantis laundry. How utterly lonely she had been there. She'd never admitted that before. Not even to herself. What good would it have done anyway, except lead to self-pity. And look where feeling sorry for herself had gotten her this time.

"Home sweet home." McKay intruded into her thoughts. "Notice anything different?"

At first she didn't understand what he meant; then she spotted the "For Sale" sign, and her stomach lurched. The sign was tilted at a precarious angle in the half-melted snow, as though someone had given it a hard, purposeful kick as they walked past. Attached to the top of it was a smaller sign which read "Sold" in bright red letters.

This was wrong. Jack would never…. But her protest ground to a halt. It made sense, actually. There'd be no reason to keep the house now. No need for a private place to retreat to from the SGC. What would be the point of holding on to it, really.

She noticed Walter's gaze seemed directed at the sign too, and he let out a weary sigh accompanied by a slight shake of the head. Grabbing a portfolio he'd tossed on the seat back at the SGC, he took another deep breath and let it out slowly before getting out of the car. He paused again to straighten his back, and with another furtive glance at the sign, walked around the car and up the sidewalk toward what had once been her own front door.

With a gesture from McKay, they followed and by the time they were standing next to Walter she could hear the familiar gait of someone coming down the hall. There was the click of deadbolts and the door shivered with the effort of trying to open it now that the dampness of winter had settled in. Finally, with a loud complaint, it creaked open and a figure stood blinking at the relative brightness of the outdoor light.

She couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when she saw him. Even Walter's brow furrowed momentarily as if trying to determine whether the man in front of him really was Jack O'Neill. McKay, however, merely winced and looked away, obviously not at all surprised by what he saw.

It was Jack, but as she'd never expected to see him. She couldn't begin to guess when the last time was he'd shaved. The unkempt gray beard covered the entire lower half of his face revealing only thin, chapped lips turned down in a frown. His hair, always messy when in the field but more carefully groomed to Pentagon standards these past few years, was far beyond regulation length and looked like only fingers had combed it for days. His clothes were shabby and the aroma of stale beer seemed to hang around him, but it was his eyes which she couldn't tear her own away from, and which, above all else, made hers fill with tears.

She had not known Jack when Charlie had died. And it had taken months of them being in the field together before she'd even known about his son. But in the years since then she had, from time to time, caught glimpses of his suffering when events and circumstances had probed that still open wound. That was what she saw there now, only not brief and passing, as before, but deep and sustained and without any hope for relief.

It was exactly as she was afraid it would be.

Her heart broke.

Jack said nothing, staring at Walter until finally the Chief, clearly discomfited, cleared his throat and spoke.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir, but General Landry asked me to deliver these to you. They're the last set that need your signature, he promises."

There was a long pause as Jack seemed to consider whether to reply or not. Finally he licked his lips and gestured with his head into the dark hallway behind him.

"You'll freeze your ass off out there, Walter. Come in. And I'm retired now, so lose the 'Sir'."

"Yes, Sir," stammered Walter, nonetheless and stepped through the door. Jack didn't wait for him, but headed down the hall, favoring one knee as he walked. Walter closed the door behind them and hesitantly followed after Jack.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see that the walls of the hallway were bare. Nails protruded from wallpaper, supporting nothing except the occasional cobweb. Passing her office she saw stacks of boxes sitting in front of barren book cases, the frames from off the walls haphazardly leaning against them, stacks of newspaper and bubble wrap at the ready nearby. The living room was the same—boxes everywhere, some half empty, others already sealed with packing tape, thick black writing in Jack's barely legible scrawl identifying their contents. On the table items yet to be packed were lined up like recruits awaiting processing.

The ephemera of her life carefully entombed in cardboard.

She pushed aside the thought. Things were things. Sentimental yes, but important? No. And completely meaningless compared to the man she loved whom she now barely recognized in the person standing at the counter, shuffling through the papers Walter had brought.

"If you'd sign there…and there…Sir," the Chief pointed at different locations on the documents Jack had spread out on the countertop. Jack did little more than glance at each one before scribbling his name.

"That it?" he asked as Walter shuffled them into a neat pile and whisked them back into the portfolio. The Chief nodded.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, a dozen years of habit too difficult to break. He tucked the folder under his arm and after a moment of seeming indecision, added: "And General…may I just say…I mean…I wasn't able to attend the funeral and I just wanted to tell you how very sorry…."

The hardness on Jack's face stopped him in mid-sentence and Walter never finished the condolence. She watched Jack's dark eyes become like flint, saw his jaw working ever so slightly as he struggled for some tiny bit of control. Anger and pain coiled together like twin serpents and she was quite certain that if Walter had uttered one more word Jack would have unleashed them both on the man in a violent fury. The moment seemed suspended in time—flared white hot, like a star gone super-nova—and then, just as swiftly, burned itself into nothingness, leaving behind an absolute blankness in the man that was more terrifying than the rage could ever have been. There was no one there now. Jack...her Jack…was gone. Nothing but a shadow remained, in every way no more substantial than she herself now was.

She couldn't bear to see him like this, and yet she couldn't bring herself to look away. Tears streamed down her cheeks and there was a terrible tightness in her chest. She felt, more than saw, McKay shift uncomfortably next to her.

"I warned you…," he said quietly, although his tone was more solicitous than recriminating. She nodded, wiping at the dampness on her face.

"I know…," she choked. "I just didn't expect…I didn't think it would be this hard."

The awkward silence in front of them continued as Walter no doubt wished himself miles away. It was Jack who finally broke it, pointing in the general direction of the Chief's right side.

"I heard you took a blast yourself," he said, flatly. "Healed up, did it?"

Walter put his hand gingerly to his ribcage, as if expecting the movement to cause pain.

"Yes, Sir. It put me out of commission for a good six weeks, but I'm good now. Well…," he hesitated a moment again and seemed to find some kind of resolve. "At least as good as any of us can be, under the circumstances. We all miss her, Sir."

She waited for the explosion to come, but there was nothing left in the man. He was merely a shadow. "Yeah," was all he could manage, barely audible. He toyed with the pen in his hand, giving it his full attention as Walter stared at the floor, seemingly relieved to have said his peace at last. More silence followed.

"I should…," the Chief jutted his thumb toward the door, finally. Jack looked up as if surprised to find the man still there. Walter was already moving into the hallway, seemingly aware that it would be best if he showed himself out. Jack didn't move but simply watched him go.

"Time to leave," McKay told her, starting after Walter, but she couldn't budge. She refused. How could she go? How could she leave him like this?

"Umm…hello? Sam? Our ride is taking off without us…."

"No." She shook her head and turned to McKay. It was time to end this. "I'm not going."

He seemed less surprised than she thought he'd be, and for once he didn't say anything but waited for her to continue.

"I won't let this happen to him. I want my life back, McKay. There's got to be a way to fix this."

He sighed. "Sam, I told you…."

"I know what you told me," she interrupted. "And I know you said that it was my wish to never have come to Atlantis which changed everything. I get it. You've made your point. I see now that it wasn't a mistake for me to go there. I needed to be there…I still do." She hoped he couldn't hear the desperation in her voice. Or maybe she did…. "Now, I still don't know who or what you really are, but I do know that you can fix this. Please."

McKay gave her a slight smile and tapped his finger against his head.

"I told them you would figure it out eventually. And you've almost got it, Sam. You're almost there." He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to make the final leap.

What was she missing? What did he want her to do? Surely it couldn't be as simple as merely asking…

…or maybe wishing….

The slight smile on McKay's face was broadening into a full grin.

Maybe it was that simple.

"I want everything back exactly as it was," she tried, tentatively. He nodded encouragingly, still waiting for more. "I don't want any of this to have happened this way…." Still nothing from McKay. More, then. "I want to be in Atlantis, even if I never make it home for a dozen Christmases…." He was still looking expectant. She took a deep breath. It felt foolish to say it this way, but it was the only thing left. "I wish I had gone to Atlantis. I know now that people really would have been better off if I'd been there."

The room around her shimmered. Colors began to run together like a chalk drawing in the rain. Jack's form swirled momentarily before blending into the whirlpool of color. McKay too, momentarily clear against the watercolor background, slowly dissolved into his own puddle of color and was swept up in the rest. For a moment she was dizzy, trying to focus on the colors spinning around her. But it spun faster and faster, like a cyclone of melted crayons until she had no choice but to close her eyes to block it all out. The air whipped around her with the spiraling colors, a mighty wind roaring in her ears. She shouted for McKay, but the sound was snatched from her lips and in the cacophony that surrounded her.

And then it stopped. As if someone had flipped a switch. Or pressed a button. All that remained was a gentle breeze tugging at her hair and a faint rush of water somewhere in the distance. Still breathing hard, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around.

She was back on Atlantis. Back on the observation deck where she'd first sought solitude what seemed like a lifetime ago. The city stood around her, whole and shimmering in the light of the three moons which seemed to not have budged one degree from where they had been before. A breeze off the ocean caught her hair again and she closed her eyes and tasted its salty goodness, rejoicing in the sound of the sea lapping against the nearby pier.

"Oh…there you are. What are you doing out here?"

She opened her eyes and turned to see McKay standing there, tablet in hand. She all but ran to him and threw her arms around him. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

He went oddly rigid at her touch and when she stepped back she saw his eyes wide in confusion.

"Umm…why did you do that? Not that I minded or anything," he added hastily. "In fact, it was quite nice…but I have to say…on my list of things to expect today, that was definitely not one of them."

She felt the heat creep up her cheeks. The real Rodney McKay stood in front of her. Her guide, whoever he was, had vanished.

There really was little point in trying to explain. He'd probably think she was nuts anyway.

"Sorry, McKay…I thought you were someone else," she offered lamely. Still, she really didn't care if she looked foolish at the moment. Nothing at all mattered except that everything was right again. Both here and back on Earth. She wished she could see Jack for herself—she needed something to dispel those last horrible images of him. But she'd be content for now with the certainty that everything was indeed as it had been before, right down to the IOA, bless their tiny little bureaucratic hearts.

"Hmmm." McKay was looking at her oddly. "Yes. I can see how you might make that mistake. People think I'm someone else all the time. Oh…" He suddenly looked slightly embarrassed. "Maybe you were expecting to meet…" he looked around. "Did I intrude on something?"

"McKay!" She hoped the exasperated tone of her voice was enough to dissuade him from any thoughts that she'd been having a rendezvous out here. Back only a minute and already she was having to stop the rumor mill from running rampant again.

"Sorry…sorry. Of course not. You're…well…you, after all."

She wasn't sure if she should take that as an insult or not, but decided to just be grateful that Rodney had let the whole thing go.

"Was there something you wanted, McKay?" she asked, hoping to further push the last few minutes from his mind. He had gone back to studying his tablet.

"Huh?" he asked, looking up. "Oh…yes…actually. Your thingy there…." He indicated her headset. "The battery must be dead. They've been trying to reach you. The Apollo is in orbit. They're requesting permission to beam supplies and personnel down."

"The Apollo? They're not due here until after the first of the year." Had she missed a memo? Trying her headphone without success, she left McKay on the observation deck and headed back inside.

"Oh…and Sheppard wants to debrief as soon as you have a minute…," he called after her as she hurried toward the transporter station. "But yeah…I guess it can wait until…." But she never heard the end of the sentence. The transporter had grabbed her and was hurtling her atoms back to the main tower.


	11. Chapter 11

"Report," she requested the moment she stepped into the Control Room. Sheppard was there ahead of her, standing over the shoulder of Amelia Banks and obviously already in contact with The Apollo.

"She's right here, Colonel," he spoke into the headset just before he peeled it off and handed it to her. "They came into orbit about fifteen minutes ago," he explained before dead-panning: "Surprise."

So maybe she hadn't missed a memo. Still, it was not like Ellis to show up unannounced. Surprises were rarely a good thing in the Pegasus Galaxy where Murphy's Law tended to be SOP. Although it was probably too much to ask, considering what she'd just experienced, that Colonel Ellis not be here to drop some pending crisis in her lap. She wasn't complaining, however. She had seen the other path and, headaches and all, this one was still the best and only choice.

Putting on her most hospitable smile she slipped on the headset.

"Colonel Ellis…this is a surprise. To what do we owe this unexpected visit?"

There was a slight crackle in the earpiece before his voice came through clearly.

"…fraid that's classified, at the moment, Colonel. However, I do have cargo and personnel that are awaiting clearance to transport down."

Cargo was a given. Supplies were always on-board any ship from Milky Way. But personnel? She wasn't aware of any transfers to the base or any staff who were due back this soon. Probably the IOA had sent another inspector to further probe the Midway fiasco. Merry Christmas to her.

"I wasn't aware we were expecting guests," she quipped. "If I'd known I'd have had the carpets cleaned."

She thought she heard a low chuckle on the other end of the conversation.

"I don't know about the carpets, Colonel. But you might want to prepare a fruit basket. He keeps asking for one. Permission to transport?"

"Permission granted. Feel free to deliver him right to the gate room. And Colonel…if you'll still be here tomorrow, you and your crew are welcome to join us for Christmas dinner. It's my understanding that we'll have plenty of mashed potatoes in the commissary."

"I might take you up on that, Colonel. We'll talk later. And we're ready to transfer in five."

She finished the countdown in her head and saw the streaks of light pass through the ceiling of the gate room and take the form of several large crates, all stenciled with "ATLANTIS" in red lettering. Seconds later there was another matter stream and when it vanished a man stood there, his back to her.

She knew the stance instantly. Before he could even turn around to look up toward the Control Room she was half-way down the stairs, reminding herself that she had an audience and that throwing herself into his arms wasn't quite the proper greeting for a visiting general. It didn't stop her, however, from savoring the very sight of him, from his gray, tousled head to his oh-so-smug, gotcha! smile, to the three stars that now adorned his shoulders. But best of all were his eyes, alive with light and life and joy, meeting hers as she hurried down the steps to stand as close to him as she dared. Neither of them spoke for a moment. She wasn't sure she entirely trusted her voice anyway. And in Jack's eyes, in addition to everything else, she thought she detected just a trace of added moisture. It was probably better that neither of them were speaking just yet.

There was a burst of static again in her ear. Colonel Ellis.

"I trust my surprise visitor has arrived with all his molecules intact?" he asked with what sounded amazingly like amusement.

She grinned herself. Definitely something she planned to verify later. In private. She saw Jack arch an eyebrow as if reading her thoughts and it was all she could do to answer Ellis coherently.

"That would seem to be the case, Colonel. And what, may I ask, are in the crates?"

"You'll have to ask Santa yourself, Colonel," Ellis replied. "He's the one who brought them on-board. But if I had to guess, I'd say your people are going to have a whole lot merrier Christmas tomorrow than they might have thought possible a few days ago. We've got six more pallets of those things to send down. Plus a storage locker full of food. There's stuff in there I've never even heard of, let alone eaten. But I guess that's the beauty of an international expedition."

Only about half of what Ellis was telling her registered. She couldn't stop looking at Jack, hardly daring to believe he was, indeed, standing there in front of her. She thanked Ellis distractedly and it was only when his transmission closed off did she realize she hadn't actually said anything _to_ Jack.

"Welcome to Atlantis, General," she said, in her best Colonel voice. "It's good to see you…Sir." She added the honorific as an afterthought. There were plenty of people, civilian and military alike, within earshot. Some protocol had to be maintained.

"Likewise, Carter," he boomed. Lowering his voice he winked at her. "Miss me?"

Her thoughts flashed momentarily to the man she'd seen broken and empty in the rubble of her life.

"You have no idea," she replied with quiet earnestness. Jack's face flashed concern at her unexpected tone and he studied her for a moment, as if trying to grasp the meaning behind her words. She shook her head. "Never mind. I'll explain later."

Satisfied, he offered her a piece of paper he'd been holding in his hand.

"By the way. Ellis has drafted me as delivery boy. Here's the manifest for what's in those crates and all the other ones he intends to beam down. Merry Christmas, courtesy of the Pentagon and the IOA."

She reached for the document and their hands touched. She expected him to let go immediately, but he seemed reluctant to surrender the paper and she felt the brush of his thumb surreptitiously across the top of her fingers. It sent an unexpected shiver up her spine.

"My people will be most appreciative…thank you," she managed to say, finally taking the paper from him. She wondered if anyone was the least bit curious as to why the passing of a sheet of paper had lasted an eternity. Or at least that was what it had seemed like to her.

She saw the Stargate light up before she heard it activate. The lights on the great circle began to race around, locking into each chevron quickly in sequence. Looking up at the Control Room, Sam tapped her com.

"This is Colonel Carter…I didn't think we had any teams out now," she said, sharing a concerned look with Jack.

"We don't Colonel," Amelia's voice came back. "And I don't understand it…but it's an out-going wormhole. It's being dialed from here. But I have no idea how."

The enormous kawoosh erupted into the room before settling back into a serene-looking puddle of blue. This shouldn't be happening…although that wasn't the first time she'd thought that today. Regardless, she needed to see for herself what was exactly was going on, but as she turned to take the stairs to the Control Room, McKay was suddenly blocking her way, working with great concentration on his tablet. Good. At least someone was on top of the problem.

"Rodney…what's going on? How did we get an out-going wormhole?"

McKay looked up distractedly. "Huh?" He glanced at the wormhole. "Oh…that. Nothing to worry about." He focused his attention suddenly on Jack. "General…nice to finally meet you. You are indeed a lucky, lucky man." He offered his hand, which Jack shook…hesitantly. McKay beamed beatifically at both of them as he tucked his tablet under his arm and rubbed his hands together. "Yes. Well. I guess that about wraps everything up. My work here is done. No need to thank me. Really. They figured they owed you one, Sam. Both of you, actually. Have a wonderful life."

She shook her head in exasperation. "McKay…what are you…." But she never got to finish. The figure in front of them grew brighter and brighter until it became nothing but wisps of smoky light. The luminous cloud hovered above them for a few before streaking off through the Stargate where it vanished from sight. Seconds later the wormhole disengaged and the room suddenly seemed much dimmer with the loss of the brilliant blue light.

She looked at Jack. Jack looked at her. He gestured with his thumb at the Stargate over his shoulder. "Carter…was that…?"

"Yeah," she replied, still slightly stunned. Jack nodded his head matter-of-factly.

"Ahhh." He considered this a moment. "I assume I'll hear the whole story later, then?"

It was her turn to nod, because to even begin to try to explain it here would be impossible. But at least now she understood. All of it, finally, made sense.


	12. Chapter 12

The debriefing with John Sheppard and the real Rodney McKay had taken much longer than she'd thought. She'd also had to pull together a team of off-duty people to take care of processing and distributing the packages from home that the Apollo had delivered—not that anyone she'd asked to help had minded. One of them had discovered a large bin of Santa hats which had no recipient name on it and they'd worn them as they made their deliveries around the base. Everywhere she went, tidying up the loose ends of her day, she could feel that the mood of the place had changed. People smiled when they passed her. She heard more laughter in the commissary. Christmas carols floated out of private quarters in the habitation wing. The Sergeant from the kitchen even chased after her to report, with great enthusiasm, that the Apollo had off-loaded several hundred pounds of russets which he had every intention of turning into fries the day _after_ Christmas.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone who might be expecting mashed for Christmas, Ma'am," he told her with a significant look.

She was tired but happy by the time she finally turned into the corridor where her quarters were. It was much later than she'd expected and she wondered if Jack had fallen asleep waiting for her. When the door slid open, however, she was greeted by the sound of two tinny voices intoning an off-key rendition of "Buffalo Gals" and saw Jack propped up in bed with her laptop balanced across his knees watching something on it.

"Wha…?" she began, but he shushed her.

"This is one of the good parts," he told her. "C'mere."

Unzipping her jacket and kicking off her boots, she climbed onto the bed and stretched out next to him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Mmm. A little," she told him. "But the good kind. Mostly, though, I'm just happy."

"You are." It was more of a statement than a question. He freed his arm and wrapped it around her drawing her against his chest.

Oh yes. Very happy. And becoming happier by the moment.

"What are you watching?" she asked, focusing on the computer screen which seemed to have become a de facto DVD player. Wait…was it actually in black and white?

"Great movie," Jack replied. "Haven't watched it in years, but I thought maybe you'd like it."

"Mmmmm." Her eyes were drifting shut. The warmth of Jack's body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were lulling her to sleep. "What's it called," she murmured, trying in vain to keep her eyes open.

"It's a Wonderful Life," he told her.

Sam smiled sleepily into his chest.

"It most certainly is."


End file.
